


Refractions Of Light

by Aashlee_Elizabeth



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aashlee Elizabeth, Angst, F/M, Family, Humor, Meet the Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aashlee_Elizabeth/pseuds/Aashlee_Elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Refraction is the bending of light as it passes from one medium to another. When Mbaruku Uhura's daughter brings home an alien Starfleet officer, will light bend through his fear enough for him to see the colors within? Complement to <em>The Rose Garden</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fears

**Author's Note:**

> After posting _The Rose Garden_ , I had requests from readers for a story about how Nyota's father, Mbaruku, got to know his daughter's enigmatic boyfriend. This is that tale. Unlike _The Rose Garden_ , it is not a short story. Mbaruku is, in the words of one reader, a "tougher nut to crack" than Nyota's mother, M'Umbha Faizah, was.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story is for entertainment purposes only. I do not profit (nor would I attempt to profit) from any of my unlicensed _Star Trek_ -based works, as I do not own the rights.

M'Umbha "Faizah" Uhura took a deep breath and sighed before stepping outside. She scanned the yard behind the house, her eyes stopping on her husband, Mbaruku, who watched her from his favorite lounge chair under his favorite shade tree. He leaned back, his eyelids half-shut as he took a short break from reading student term papers on his PADD. Odd that she approached him somewhat reluctantly, handing him the tall glass of juice, a temporary relief from the heat.

Mbaruku accepted the glass with a nod of thanks, but he noticed the uncharacteristic stiffness in Faizah's posture and a sharpness in her movements that indicated an undercurrent of some kind of turmoil. Something had shaken her. His eyebrows rose in question.

"Nyota just called," she said in a carefully controlled voice.

"And?" Mbaruku wondered what their daughter Nyota had said to concern her mother this time.

Comm calls from Nyota that concerned Faizah were not unusual. Faizah always worried about their oldest daughter's safety and well-being, especially in the four years since Nyota left home to attend Starfleet Academy. Though Faizah assured Mbaruku she knew that letting go of their daughter was the correct thing to do, parental instincts never made it the easy thing to do. Mbaruku watched as Faizah worried throughout Nyota's basic training, then later during cadet training missions aboard starships to distant sectors. Though Faizah put up a brave front, as her sleeping partner, Mbaruku knew that she hardly slept during such missions until Nyota called them inform them of her safe return. Truth be told, neither did he.

After the _Enterprise's_ harrowing encounter with the renegade Romulan Nero, Mbaruku and Faizah's worry and protective instincts rose to an entirely new level. They tried to keep level heads, comforting themselves that Nyota and her crewmates were the best of the best, well-trained to handle almost anything.

Clearly there had been something more, something beyond the usual concerns in this comm call. Faizah looked off toward her garden as if she were summoning courage. Compared to the Nero threat and the near-destruction of their planet, what could possibly have Faizah this upset? Mbaruku decided it was time to draw it out, whatever it was. He sat up straighter.

"All is well, I hope?" he prompted.

Faizah looked heavenward. "That depends on how you define 'well.'"

Why was his wife being so evasive? Despite the calm demeanor he wore, Mbaruku was no longer relaxed. "What do you mean?"

"She has a boyfriend."

 _A boyfriend? Was that all?_ Mbaruku almost laughed. Nyota never had time for boyfriends, and he was sure that whoever this new "boyfriend" was, he would not last. Nyota's relationship roster included two short-lived attachments during adolescence, and one during her first year at Starfleet Academy. Although they had been nice boys, her academic and career aspirations put an end to the relationships as soon as the boys in question wanted to become more serious.

Sometimes, to Faizah's dismay, he joked that only a genius who had five doctoral-level degrees, spoke fifty languages, and won Nobel Prizes in his spare time could turn Nyota's head. Yes, she had high standards, impossibly high standards that no human could ever hope to meet. Any suitor who tried to capture Nyota Uhura's heart might as well try looking for the Holy Grail, too—he might have more luck.

They had been through this before. So what had changed?

"Mbaru, please do not go into shock when I tell you who he is."

 _Don't go into shock?_ Was it that bad?

Mbaruku transitioned into professorial mode. He mentally made and reviewed a list of any male Nyota ever mentioned. Foremost among the possibilities were Nyota's fellow cadets from the Academy or, perhaps, her new _Enterprise_ shipmates. For the last six weeks, he had seen many of them interviewed repeatedly on news programs about the heroics that had saved Earth from certain annihilation. They were all good people. If one of these men were now dating his daughter—he thought that the composed and controlled helmsman, Hikaru Sulu, might make a nice match—he could not imagine why Faizah was so agitated, at least to this degree.

Recognizing the futility of this exercise, Mbaruku finally broke the question. "Faizah, no more secrets…. Who is he? It's not the captain of her ship, is it?"

"No," Faizah sighed again, still not believing this herself. "It is the first officer."

Mbaruku almost dropped his drink. Never would he have considered…

_The first officer?_

"Commander Spock? Her instructor and advisor?… Her _Vulcan_ instructor and advisor?"

Despite his best intentions, Mbaruku's paternal hackles were now up as his brain kicked into a higher gear, spitting out thoughts in rapid succession. What did he know about the commander? What did he know about Vulcans? What was Commander Spock doing to his daughter? Where was he at this moment? How fast could Mbaruku get to San Francisco? When—? How—? W—?

Mbaruku's rational mind tried to take command. He took another deep breath and forced calmness to suppress the father-warrior inside that needed desperately to track down the threat to his daughter. He prided himself as being an intellectual who put reason ahead of impulse. Wasn't he the one who remained calm in a crisis? He never lost control of his emotions or common sense. He was the anchor to his passionate family's pursuits. He was…

 _Damn!_ His jaw tightened. Faizah was right. This was unsettling news. They knew little about the commander, someone from a world that shielded many secrets, especially the nature of personal relationships. What was involved in Vulcan relationships? His stomach clenched with another fear: Had the commander and Nyota…?

 _STOP!_ Though she was an adult, Nyota was still _his child_. As a father, he could not let his mind go _there_.

He tried to distract himself from those thoughts by turning to memories in search for some details. He and Faizah had met the cool Vulcan officer briefly at Starfleet Academy's graduation ceremony and the memorial service for Starfleet and Vulcan's losses just weeks ago, soon after the _Enterprise_ returned to Earth. Nyota had not mentioned anything about a personal relationship, nor had Nyota or the commander related to one another as anything other than superior officer and new Academy graduate. In addressing Faizah and Mbaruku, Commander Spock had been quiet and respectful, but somewhat aloof as typical of his species. As a historian and citizen of Earth, Mbaruku had been honored to meet the officer who was now a major historical figure.

Even before the Battles of Vulcan and Earth, Mbaruku would have been honored to meet the Vulcan in any case. Being an instructor himself, Mbaruku naturally had been curious about the instructor who was Nyota's advisor, one of the few she mentioned occasionally in letters and calls home. He had looked up the commander's official biography: multiple academic degrees and commendations, a record of starship service that (though short) was distinguished, the first Vulcan to attend and graduate from Starfleet Academy… Commander Spock was a genius with an exemplary resume that belied his youth. Mbaruku had been impressed.

Now, though, his normally calm academician's demeanor came close to breaking as his own lips thinned and his jaw again flexed with tension. Trying to reconcile the student-instructor relationship doubled his pulse rate. This did not make sense. Even if he were single, Dr. Mbaruku Uhura would never have considered crossing the boundaries of his university's fraternization code. His daughter was not a rule-breaker, and he did not think that a Vulcan officer would be, either.

But his daughter and the commander were no longer at the Academy. Was this a recent development during their service aboard the _Enterprise_? Yes, even as unlikely as the situation was, that would explain it. Perhaps Nyota felt sorry for the commander because of his personal and societal losses. Was she, in her compassion or from a sense of guilt, trying to comfort him somehow? Would a Vulcan respond to that? It would seem to be an unstable basis for a relationship.

And there were the biological issues to consider…. Did Vulcans…? Would Nyota…?

No, he was definitely _not_ going there.

Mbaruku took another deep breath. He needed more data before the thoughts borne of paternal panic ran away with him again. What else did Faizah know?

He inhaled and exhaled again to clear his head. "How long has this been going on?"

"Two years, and she says that the relationship is a serious one," Faizah said.

Two _years_? Mbaruku's eyebrows flew upward again as, this time, sheer disbelief replaced his former calmness, and shock stole his ability to form any response. So, there had been an academic breach! Now his facial expression began to match his internal turbulence. Historical figure or not, Mbaruku wondered how he was going to keep himself from strangling Commander Spock.

"One more thing: She is bringing him here," Faizah broke in quickly.

Anger replaced shock. Now he had a few things to say as the father-warrior reared. He opened his mouth, but Faizah held up her hand.

"Stop! Stop-stop-stop! Before you say anything, I need to tell you that this scares me, too." Faizah's eyes firmly held his own for a few seconds until some of his rage settled, then softened. "Yes, I am afraid, and I am upset, just as you are. Even so, I promised her that we would be good hosts and would welcome him into our home. And, for her sake, we will be."

She paused to let her words sink in through the red haze that was beginning to fade from Mbaruku's vision. She touched his forearm in support.

"If you had seen her," she continued, trying to control the shake in her voice, "you would have promised the same. I have never seen her like this. I get the feeling that there is much more that we will not understand until we meet him. She wants to protect him, and though she tries to hide it, I think that she loves him."

 _Love?_ This was too much. Mbaruku gave up trying to make sense of the whole thing. He looked down at his hands as he tried to center himself as fear, anger, disbelief, protectiveness, and love for Nyota collided within. And he had to ask himself: Why was he upset? What did he really know? The rational analyst inside himself acknowledged that his unease stemmed from a fear of the unknown. Until this moment, he had not known anything about this relationship, how it started, how involved the pair was, what that involvement meant.

Though he knew little of Commander Spock, he did know his daughter and wanted to trust her. She had become everything that he and Faizah had hoped she would be. Intelligence, wisdom, and a strong self-esteem only enhanced Nyota's physical beauty. Hers was a charismatic presence that instantly captivated—maybe charismatic enough to affect even a Vulcan.

Somehow, though, he felt hurt, betrayed, and disappointed. "Did she say anything about how this happened?"

"A little. They got to know each other while she was his teaching assistant. She found him intriguing, fascinating, brilliant…. They found that they had much in common, and then it just happened. She fell for him, and he…he developed an 'affection' for her. She said that they tried to deny and bury it. They knew it was wrong. But neither could leave the other alone."

"That is somewhat melodramatic, don't you think, from a couple of adults?" he asked tightly. "This could have cost them their careers. He's _Vulcan_ and _her instructor_. Where was his self-control? And never would I have expected this from Nyota. She's a professor's daughter; she knows better."

Faizah took in a deep breath. "It was nothing I expected either," she breathed out. Faizah paused a moment to watch a breeze rustle through her rose bushes before starting again. "I think she is making a mistake, and I don't look forward to the fallout from this, but it is her life now. If she needs us, we will help her. We will always be her parents."

Mbaruku nodded.

The two stood wordlessly for a few more seconds. In these moments, Faizah appeared to center her thoughts some more before quietly stating their course of action. "The Vulcan Nyota loves saved our world. His is gone. He's going to be a guest in our home. We will treat him with kindness and respect, as we do with all our guests. I promised her. And though we have misgivings, we owe him nothing less. We _will_ welcome him."

Her affirmation complete, Mbaruku nodded his agreement, looking over the greenery with Faizah as she continued to stare out over her garden. His face nullified into blankness as he continued to work on distancing his emotions from the situation at hand. Yes, Faizah was correct. Hard as it would be, it was the right way to proceed for now.

"Nyota has always had a sound mind and good judgment," he said quietly. "But, does she know what she's doing? If she loves him, can he love her back? If this goes further, will she be happy? I still do not know what to think."

Faizah stood up. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned toward the house. "Neither do I. Before they get here, I have some research to do."

"Faizah, wait…." He tried to keep his voice quieter and even as he tried to settle his wife.

When Faizah researched anything, she obsessed. Honestly, he had to admit to trying to keep himself from obsessing as well.

"Please, we will talk to them when they get here. Until then, there is nothing to do. I am sure that we already know all there is to know. It's all on the newsvids. And anything we learn will change nothing between now and then. If this has been going on for two years, will waiting two more weeks make any difference?"

"I cannot wait, Mbaru." The shakiness in Faizah's voice had returned. "Our daughter may be a woman now, but she is still young. Tell me, has she had a serious relationship before? Has she ever hidden anything like this from us before? For _two_ years? And _he_ is _Vulcan_. What does that mean? What is he like? Will she be happy? I don't know. And what about Vulcans? What is important to them? What are they going to do now? Do you know? I don't. Could I be more comfortable with this, or at least understand how this happened, if I knew something, anything? I don't know, but I have to learn. I need to prepare. I need to find some answers so that I understand _why_."

One could not restrain the Mama Lioness in M'Umbha Faizah Ng'ang'a-Uhura when she was fighting to protect her cub.

"Very well," he conceded, excusing his anxious wife. "Tell me what you learn."

Faizah quickly made her way back to the house to begin her task, leaving Mbaruku to sip his juice and consider the repercussions and implications of this turn in their lives.

**-o0o-**

Over the next two weeks, Mbaruku thought about the unlikely pair. Like Faizah, he tried to discover the key to _why_ : why did she choose him, and why did he choose her?

Though Mbaruku tried to adopt a "wait-and-see" attitude, Faizah's research interested him more than he would have wanted to admit. As one of Starfleet Academy's most distinguished graduates, Commander Spock obviously was a genius with a brilliant mind and record that surely appealed to his over-achieving daughter. The commander and his daughter were only three years apart in age, so they were social contemporaries. There was more. The countless biographies of Commander Spock's life that had run non-stop on the news since the Nero incident revealed his aristocratic roots in one of his planet's most prominent, powerful, and wealthy clans.

And (he had to admit) the commander's exotically handsome appearance might have factored into the equation, too. A phrase from Mbaruku's earlier musings returned to haunt him: "…impossibly high standards that no _human_ could meet."

Indeed. Apparently, for his daughter, one Vulcan could and did.

Perhaps the relationship between the commander's parents could provide clues about the relationship between Nyota and the commander, who was himself the product of a Vulcan-Terran relationship. Unbeknownst to Faizah, as part of his own "historical research," he assigned a couple university teaching assistants to look into the details of Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda Grayson's courtship and marriage. History had a way of repeating itself, after all. Unfortunately, such details were scarce.

Even more scarce were personal details about the commander himself, and the young Vulcan did not make it easy on anyone trying to delve into his private life. In his holovid news interviews since the Battles of Vulcan and Earth, the commander said very little, no more than necessary, revealing little of his personality, maintaining a formidably icy Vulcan wall. But, to be fair, Mbaruku could find little fault in that after the trauma of losing home, family—an entire cultural foundation, really. If Nyota were bringing him here to find some peace, he could understand that.

In the end, he decided to take his own advice before he drove himself even crazier. He would have to simply wait until he could speak with Nyota and Spock themselves.


	2. Questions

Mbaruku washed his hands as he finished another task on Faizah's to-do list. Preparing for Nyota's and Commander Spock's visit had become a full-time job. Together he and Faizah had prepared the guest room, researched foods and preparations appropriate for Vulcan diets, reacquainted themselves with basic Vulcan etiquette, even tried to learn a few Vulcan phrases. Each of them spoke Federation Standard and French in addition to the Kiswahili they spoke at home, but sadly neither of them was the linguist that Nyota was, though they did manage to master the pronunciation of a few phrases to the tutorial program's satisfaction.

Complicating their already busy schedule, during the last couple days their flitter had started to make some odd noises. Of all the times for this to happen! Faizah reminded Mbaruku several times to make the appointment with the service center. Sitting at his comm station, he was about to call his favorite mechanic, but then he thought of another question he wanted to ask the Vulcan.

Mbaruku had been collecting a list of topics for discussion with the commander. Famous or not, Vulcan or not, Mbaruku intended to confront Commander Spock with the inquiries that Mbaruku believed were his right as Nyota's father. He was determined to understand what the commander had been thinking when he began the relationship with his daughter. He wanted to know how the commander was treating Nyota, and what his intentions were. Between work, preparations, and worry, he was exhausted, but not so exhausted that he was letting down his guard or surveillance. No, Mbaruku wanted answers from the officer who had for two years illicitly engaged himself and Nyota inappropriately in a situation that went against all rules and regulations.

Surely Nyota was going to be unhappy with most of the questions on his list. Mbaruku accepted this. He was a father, and he was certain that no father in history had ever managed to make it through life without irritating his progeny to some degree.

There was, of course, the possibility that the commander would refuse to answer. And, if Nyota refused as well, Mbaruku was unsure how far he was willing to push either one. But for the moment, he was ready, and his list was ready. Simply presenting his list to the couple might open a dialog. One way or another, the warrior-father was prepared to protect his daughter by getting the facts he needed.

And so, the night of the couple's visit arrived. Nervously Mbaruku and Faizah stood waiting in the home's entry until the door chime rang. As the young Starfleet officers walked through the front door, Mbaruku was, indeed, ready to drag the pair to his office until…

Until Mbaruku saw him.

It was late. Understandably the couple was exhausted after their busy day and long shuttle flight. Nyota, first through the door, smiled widely when she saw her father, but her eyes were tired, her lids barely open.

"My girl!" Faizah was there first, embracing the daughter who was very much a younger copy of herself. "I have missed you so much!"

"Mama!" Nyota returned, her hoarse voice trying to muster a brightness that fatigue dampened.

"You're so thin! They have been working you too hard?"

"I'm fine," Nyota assured, pulling from the embrace. She turned. "Baba!"

It was his turn. For the moment, Mbaruku forgot about his worries while he concentrated on Nyota. As she leaned into him to exchanged hugs and kisses, Mbaruku felt her exhaustion, and she nearly stumbled trying to right herself. Near collapse, she resolutely stood up anyway and walked to the Vulcan's side.

Unbelievably, once Mbaruku got a look at him, the Vulcan looked worse than Nyota did. He was far from exuding the stereotypical resolute demeanor or carrying the stalwart posture of a historical hero, which, Mbaruku knew, he was destined to be. At this moment, Commander Spock, though he stood straight and carried both his bags and Nyota's, seemed on the edge of collapse himself. He maintained a careful non-expression, but if Vulcans were like humans, then the circles under his eyes gave away how tired he was.

"Mama, Baba, this is Spock," Nyota said. "You met after the Academy graduation ceremony."

It was time to play host. Mbaruku turned his attention to the taller, younger man. "Yes, of course. Welcome to our home, Commander."

Mbaruku knew better than to extend the handshake that was standard in Federation culture. Instead he gave a short nod.

Spock nodded in return. "Sir, Ma'am, your hospitality is most honorable. I am grateful," he intoned quietly.

In the dark depths of Commander Spock's pupils, Mbaruku saw distress, torment, and—dare he label it?—a sadness so profound, the kind he had rarely seen in anyone, much less a Vulcan. He recalled the Vulcan's very pale complexion from the time they met at Nyota's graduation ceremony weeks before, but it had not been as white as the proverbial ghost, had it?

In brief messages sent during her rare free moments, Nyota had kept her parents informed of her whereabouts. She and the commander had been on board the _Enterprise_ during part of the past two weeks for a brief shake-down cruise. Spacedock personnel had begun repairing the damage soon after their return to Earth while the surviving crew and cadets participated in the Academy's graduation ceremony and several memorial services. Once the ship was space-worthy, the crew had taken the starship out again to test all systems, then brought it back to Spacedock for final repairs and adjustments. In the days before and after the cruise, there had been more debriefings on the Nero situation and numerous appearances before the Federation press corps. Before the _Enterprise's_ relaunch, Starfleet Command had granted the crew a brief period of leave.

It appeared that the Uhuras' daughter and the commander needed it. The commander remained politely standing, waiting for the invitation to come in beyond the entryway, but he was at the end of his endurance, and now was not a good time to do more than exchange the greetings they already had and wish each other a good night.

Faizah and Mbaruku glanced at each other. Each was full of questions but recognized that their questions should wait until tomorrow. It was the only compassionate thing to do.

"Come," Faizah invited, extending her hand toward the stairway. "Commander, let me show you to your room. It has been a long day, and I am sure you and Nyota would like to rest. We can get to know one another tomorrow, yes?"

"You are most kind," he replied.

Well, Mbaruku noted, one thing was for sure: The commander had impeccable manners. He also noted Nyota's visible relief. She probably expected that her father would grill her and the commander for details. Smart girl. She certainly knew her own father.

He watched as Nyota and Faizah gently guided the younger man up the stairway to the second floor where the guest room was. He turned to close windows and turn off the lights on the main floor to shut down the house for the night. Upstairs a door closed, then the floor above creaked with each footstep as Nyota and Faizah went to her room. Murmurs of a quiet conversation followed for several minutes before the quiet click of Nyota's own door carried down the stairway. A few moments later, Faizah returned to the main floor where she met her husband. The two exchanged more confused looks.

The Vulcan Nyota loved was finally here. Yet, they knew no more than before. Their questions remained unanswered.

**-o0o-**

Neither he nor Faizah slept well that night. Faizah turned about in her restlessness, which kept Mbaruku from dozing off. Every time he was at the brink of slumber, she turned in another fit of restlessness that reawakened him, and so this cycle continued through the night. Finally, as dawn began to brighten the sky outside, Faizah got up and left the room. With the room and his bed finally quiet, Mbaruku was able to fall asleep.

When he awoke, the sun shone brightly through the shutters. He looked at the chronometer—several hours had passed. It was nearly mid morning, much past his normal waking time. He got up and threw on some clothes. He did not like the idea of being the last one up, especially if Nyota, who was notorious for sleeping in, was already awake. She would tease him mercilessly.

First he went to the kitchen. No one was there. Then out on the veranda. No one there, either. Perhaps the garden—Faizah often spent her mornings there.

He walked into the yard to the pathway leading to the rose bushes. Who was that coming toward him? Commander Spock?

He wore simple black trousers, a simple green, long-sleeved tunic with black embroidery around the cuffs. He seemed more relaxed, more rested than he had been last night. At least some color had returned to his face.

Most confusing, though, in his left hand was one of Faizah's roses. Faizah rarely cut her blooms, preferring to leave them in the garden where they would last longer. This was most irregular.

"Good morning, Commander," he greeted politely, but completely perplexed.

"Good morning, Sir," the Vulcan returned as he passed, clearly focused on going inside the house. If Mbaruku did not know better, he guessed that the Vulcan's destination was Nyota's room. He did not like the thought of that, but first he had to find out what was going on.

He hurried down the path and found a smiling Faizah. Now he was really confused. "What happened here?" he asked. "How did he get you to part with one of your roses?" He considered the scene: two sets of buckets and kneeling pads. Then Mbaruku realized, "He won you over, didn't he?"

"Yes, I think he just did," she sighed happily, then chuckled.

What spell had the commander cast?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what transpired between Faizah and Spock in the rose garden, you need to read _The Rose Garden_. (Click on my name to access the list of my stories on this site.) But, it is not necessary if you prefer to see this tale unfold entirely from Mbaruku's point of view. 
> 
> Thanks go to my beta, T'Soy, who offered her sharp insights and honest feedback throughout this story.


	3. The Uji Offensive

"Faizah…"

Faizah wiped the dirt from her pruners as she continued her clean-up. "I like him. I think he is good for Nyota."

"Good for Nyota?" Mbaruku could not believe it.

Faizah's eyes briefly looked distant as if she were recalling a pleasant thought. "We talked."

"And…that's it? You talked? About what?" Now he truly wondered about Vulcan telepathy. Faizah was not usually easily swayed.

"Oh, simple things, gardening…. He knows a great deal about roses."

Mbaruku sniffed in disgust. "Apparently he knows a great deal about smooth-talk, too."

"What?"

"It's bad enough that he's somehow gotten to Nyota, but now you?"

Faizah threw a Level 1 Glare of Death at her husband. "First, no one 'smooth-talks' me. You should know; you tried often enough."

Mbaruku gave a guilty start. As a younger man, trying to sweet-talk Faizah into dating him had been a futile, frustrating exercise. She refused until he stopped trying to impress her and instead simply switched to engaging her in honest, friendly conversation.

Faizah seemed satisfied that her jab hit its mark, then her eyes saddened. "Second, it's not about the gardening. Nyota told me that he and Lady Amanda were close. He does not say it outright, but I believe it. She taught him about rose care and gardening—did you know that they had a rose garden on Vulcan? He helped her with the pruning the same way he just helped me. And now…. Well, I don't know how he endures it."

Mbaruku felt great sympathy for Commander Spock's losses, however this situation also concerned Nyota's well-being. He had to maintain his focus and not be swayed by the emotion of the moment.

"Mbaru, listen to me. We need to take this more slowly and remember what has happened to him. He is wounded. It is going to take listening to what he _cannot_ say as much as listening to what he does." Faizah started to pack away a couple more gardening tools, then she stopped and her lips turned up in a smile. "He's one of those 'quiet and complex' types. But even with his Vulcan formality, I think you'll find that he has a nice sense of humor. I didn't expect that. I had no problem seeing what Nyota saw in him professionally. I am beginning to understand what she sees personally."

He was moved somewhat by Faizah's observations, yet still was concerned that she was ascribing human qualities to the Vulcan, attempting to reconcile their daughter's relationship in her mind. "A Vulcan with a sense of humor? Really?"

She nodded in confirmation. "I do like him. He's a nice boy."

Though it looked like the Vulcan had just passed The Faizah Test, the father-warrior remained doubtful. "Nice _boy_? He's a Starfleet commander. He's hardly a boy."

But the Mama Lioness had found another cub to protect, and Faizah leveled her death glare again. "In most respects, no. But, Mbaru, right now he is. Inside that Vulcan man's body is a boy who has just lost his mother and his entire world. Didn't you see that I wanted to sit him down the second he walked through our door last night? I did! But you saw him. He tries to contain it, but look in his eyes. Nyota warned us. Vulcan feelings run deep. They are all in a serious state of shock right now. We need to be careful. I understand now why she brought him here, and she is trusting us."

Mbaruku was not giving up. "This _boy_ is involved with our daughter."

"He is fortunate, then, that our daughter has parents who will treat him respectfully." Apparently, Faizah, eyeing him critically, was not giving up, either.

"Are you no longer concerned about their relationship?"

"Of course, as I would be with anyone Nyota brought home. I still have concerns. And he is Vulcan. I'm not sure how that will work."

"But you like him…," Mbaruku prompted, interested in her reasons. Maybe they would settle his own fears. "How can you say that when you hardly know him?"

She relaxed slightly as she thought aloud. "I don't know. I thought that he would be cold and distant—you know, the typical Vulcan stereotypes—but he's not. He's quiet, and, honestly, I am wondering how he stands up to Nyota," she joked to Mbaruku's consternation, "though I can see a strength of personality in there. As I think about our conversation, it also makes me wonder: Are we really so different?…" Faizah's face brightened. "Do you remember when I had to ban Nyota from the garden…?"

Mbaruku nodded, recalling Faizah's seething after a teenaged Nyota, despite Faizah's careful demonstration and instruction, pruned back the rose bushes too far. Fortunately the resilient rose bushes grew back, saving Faizah from mourning their premature demise and Nyota's banishment from the garden altogether.

Faizah continued. "Well, he told me that his mother had to ban his father from her roses. He was a little enthusiastic with the pruning shears, just like Nyota. Lady Amanda even hid her gardening tools from him!"

Mbaruku's eyebrows rose as he tried to picture the esteemed and serene Ambassador Sarek turning a garden into tossed salad.

Faizah confirmed the picture in his head with a small smirk. "And then his father had to keep his mother from overwatering a Vulcan fruit tree before it drowned. They could have been our family, just like the time I came back from that conference on Rigel…"

Mbaruku chuckled. He and their daughters had nearly drowned everything in the vegetable garden, worrying that they were not watering it enough during Faizah's two-week absence.

Faizah smiled at the memory. "We have things in common. As I think more about it, Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda, despite all their differences, were able to make their marriage work. If it ever got to that point, maybe Nyota and Spock could, too. And Spock was raised by a human mother. He may understand Nyota better than we think."

Mbaruku had to make one more point in exercising due diligence. "Perhaps, but I would like to know what he understands about breaking the Starfleet Academy Fraternization Code. We haven't addressed that little issue."

She sighed. "I am wondering about that one, too. But it's too early to fire questions at him—yes, I saw your list, Mbaru. You left your terminal on last week. How many? Eighty-eight was it?"

Mbaruku looked skyward as he corrected her. "Ninety-three. I added a few."

Faizah looked impressed, exaggerating her reaction to tease him. "Ninety-three…. One thing I always liked about you is your thoroughness. It's one of your charms."

"And would you respect me if I were not?" he returned, enjoying her reaction.

The pair shared a laugh.

"Don't bring up the fraternization code with Spock," Faizah resumed gently. "If you have to talk about it, talk to Nyota first. See what she says."

"I'd rather talk to him instead of her." Mbaruku innocently looked skyward again. "You know _your_ daughter…"

Faizah did not miss his jab. " _Our_ daughter. She gets her stubborn streak from _you_."

"Your own mother would debate that," he teased back, taking advantage of this lighter moment to break some tension. "And she has on several occasions."

"My mother? Hmph!" Faizah rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, looking very much like her own daughter. "My mother is the model of 'stubborn.' If Nyota inherited stubbornness from my side of the family, it's only because the genes for 'stubborn' skipped my generation!"

Mbaruku remained ostentatiously quiet, keeping his mouth carefully closed.

Faizah aimed The Glare of Death at him again. "You want to say something, _Dr._ Uhura?"

"Yes," he said, "but it's wise to know when to keep one's own counsel and simply observe."

"Then take your own advice," she teased back. "If you can't keep yourself from interrogating Spock as Nyota's father, then be the historian here—treat him as the historical figure he is. Observe."

Faizah had a point. The academic distancing might keep him from strangling the commander in a fit of paternal protectiveness if he found out that…. Again, Mbaruku shut off those thoughts. Why did his mind keep going there? Was it really his business? No, it was not despite his feelings otherwise. "We will have to talk about this eventually," he asserted.

Faizah seemed to read his mind. "Maybe, but be _nice,_ "she emphasized. "Breakfast will be ready soon. I sent Spock up to wake Nyota before she slept the day away."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You sent Commander Spock _with a rose_ to wake Nyota," he accused.

Faizah chuckled with a mischievious glint in her eyes. "Hmmm, so I did. I like him. He's a _nice boy_."

Mbaruku threw Faizah a wry look, shook his head, and breathed out, giving up for now.

**-o0o-**

Mbaruku and Faizah finished setting the table, and Mbaruku was about to fill a pitcher with juice. Nyota, wearing a comfortable coral short-sleeved shirt and a traditional sapphire blue kitenge, entered the room. Her hair was up, accented with the rose that Faizah had sent. Smiling widely, she looked happy and rested. Spock entered right behind her.

Spock stood back while Nyota enthusiastically went to Faizah first and embraced her. "Thank you, Mama." Her tone carried layers of meaning. "Thank you."

"Ah, your rose," Faizah observed warmly. "Very nice. It belongs there."

Mother and daughter exchanged expressions loaded with layers of understanding. With her mother's message confirmed, Nyota's smile widened, then she glanced at Mbaruku.

Mbaruku, still uncomfortable, smiled back at her anyway. "Good morning… You did not sleep the entire day away, I see."

She came over and hugged him. "I needed the sleep. It is good to be home."

Yes, Mbaruku agreed, it was.

Faizah redirected her attention to their guest. "Spock, please have a seat. Nyota said that you drink chai. Would you care for some?"

Spock pulled out a chair and sat. "Yes, Ma'am."

Faizah froze, suspending the teapot in midair, looking at him with eyebrows raised. " _Ma'am?_ " she asked playfully in mock affront and incredulity.

The Vulcan tilted his head as he assessed her reaction. "Yes,… _Faizah_ ," he corrected somewhat shyly.

"Much better!" Faizah proclaimed happily, proceeding to pour the warm liquid into his mug.

"Indeed?" Spock replied dryly, sitting back, eyes slightly widened.

Mbaruku was unsure of what the Vulcan meant with his comment, but Nyota and Faizah laughed as Nyota let go of Mbaruku to slide into the chair next to Spock. Faizah filled the other mugs, then lifted the big urn of uji, the traditional East African millet porridge, and set it next to the plates of fruit and condiments already on the table.

Mbaruku pulled out the chair directly opposite of Spock and sat. Should he invite the same familiarity that Faizah had? No, he was not ready for that. "I trust you slept well, Commander…," Mbaruku prompted, sticking to formality.

Faizah looked at him quizzically. Nyota looked a bit hurt. Well, Mbaruku thought to himself, she would have to understand.

Spock mirrored Mbaruku's reserve. "Yes, Sir."

Tension filled the air as the two men regarded each other. Mbaruku tried to break it. "Are you familiar with uji?" He indicated the urn.

"Yes, Sir."

"You've had it before?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mbaruku waited a few seconds. Spock sat ramrod straight and did not elucidate.

He tried again. "Is this something that Nyota has made for you before?"

"No, Sir."

Well, this was going nowhere.

Nyota came to the rescue. "They serve it at the Academy cafeteria sometimes. They rotate through different cuisines and encourage everyone to try new foods, to get used to them. You never know what kind of food there will be on your ship, station, or starbase."

"No fussy eater survives long in Starfleet," Faizah observed, making conversation. "Please, everyone, let's eat. Spock, if you'll pass your bowl, I'll serve."

"No, Mama, let me," Nyota broke in.

Faizah sat back in surprise. Nyota's eyes met her mother's, asking this indulgence.

The klaxons in Mbaruku's head sounded. Why did Nyota insist? Notably Commander Spock had tilted his head and looked like he was wondering the same thing.

Faizah lifted her hands in the air, gesturing acquiescence. "Certainly…here, let me move the uji closer to you. Would anyone care for fruit?"

Nyota looked slightly embarrassed as she spooned the porridge into Spock's bowl.

"Pass the fruit to me," Mbaruku said. He had been reading about Vulcan customs, and, within their context, something about Nyota's actions disquieted him. Going down a mental list of recently gleaned facts, he remembered what it was: Only Vulcan wives served Vulcan husbands their meals. Did that custom extend to girlfriends, too? Or, he wondered uneasily, had Nyota become more than a girlfriend? He had to put his concern to a test.

"Commander, may I offer you some mango or pineapple, perhaps?"

The Vulcan still looked confused. "Yes, mango. Thank you."

Four words. All in a row. At least Mbaruku was making some progress on that front. As for testing his theory, Nyota had not jumped in to stop him from serving the commander. Now what did that mean? Did it mean anything? He had to know. Faizah probably was not going to be happy with his next move, but he had to ask.

"Nyota?" he said to get her attention.

"Oh, mango and pineapple, please," she answered cheerfully.

This was not what he wanted her attention for, but he put some of the fruit on her plate anyway.

"There," he said, finishing with her and helping himself to a few pieces of the fruit. "But I was wondering…"

Faizah looked up at him sharply. Mbaruku guessed that she knew what he was going to ask about.

"…why did you stop your mother from serving the commander the uji?"

Nyota had finished topping the Vulcan's portion with nuts and berries, set it before him, then started adding condiments to her own serving. "Hmmm? Oh, Mama always puts cinnamon in mine."

"Nyota, I have not put cinnamon in your uji since you were a child," Faizah protested.

Nyota looked back at Faizah in disbelief, eyebrows high on her forehead.

"Oh, all right, maybe it was more recently than that," Faizah laughed, referencing how she fussed over her daughter during Nyota's last visit home. "Old habits are hard to break. You always liked it, though. What is suddenly wrong with cinnamon?"

"In large amounts, it doesn't always agree with Vulcan physiology. It can be an intoxicant."

Faizah's hand flew to her mouth in surprise, and she gasped. "I didn't know that! So much for my research!" Faizah turned a concerned expression to their guest. "Spock, I promise you, it was not my intention to poison you—or get you drunk."

The eyes widened as the eyebrows went up. "That is…appreciated… _Faizah_ ," he said patiently.

Nyota and Faizah broke out laughing again. The Vulcan definitely was teasing Faizah. Maybe he was not as wounded as Faizah thought. Mbaruku kept his mouth shut and observed.

"You could have simply said something," Faizah admonished her daughter. "And couldn't Spock have handled his own condiments? He seems capable enough to me."

Nyota threw up her own hands nervously. "Spock, I'm sorry! I don't know...I'm excited to be home, and I guess I just had to work off the energy."

"Your choices were consistent with what mine would have been," he replied gently, almost warmly, as his eyes met Nyota's. _"Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim."_

Nyota giggled, returning his gaze with one of her own that, Mbaruku noted, truly indicated more than a close friendship. _Love?_ That was exactly what it looked like! Suspecting this truth when Faizah mentioned it was one thing. Seeing it for himself was another. His daughter was in love, and the way the Vulcan had spoken to her reflected a degree of familiarity, almost an intimacy that made Mbaruku uncomfortable.

"And what does that mean?" Faizah laughed, interrupting the sting of Mbaruku's realization.

"There is no offense where none is taken," Nyota translated.

"Hmm, nice sentiment. I'll have to remember that phrase." Faizah was clearly enjoying this. " _Nam-t-reh_ … Would you say that again?"

" _Nam-to-ri_ …." Commander Spock slowly reviewed the phrase with Faizah, repeating it several times until she managed "acceptable" pronunciation. She seemed happy at her accomplishment. Nyota, Faizah, and the commander seemed to enjoy their lighthearted give-and-take. Mbaruku, still silently shocked, simply continued to observe their interactions.

"Baba, you're quiet." Nyota narrowed her eyes, then her brow wrinkled slightly in concentration. "Why did you want to know about the uji?"

Again, his daughter knew him well. Now Faizah was looking at him expectantly for an answer.

"It was nothing," Mbaruku evaded.

"It was _something_ ," Faizah prompted.

"It is…embarrassing," he admitted. "A misunderstanding more than anything. Let's drop it. I do not want to offend." Actually, he didn't want to say anything until he had time to think over what he had just witnessed between Nyota and the commander.

" _Nam-tor ri thrap…wilat nem-tor…rim,"_ said Faizah.

"Mama!" squealed Nyota, pride emanating from her face at her mother's effort.

The older woman beamed. "Did I say that correctly?"

"You did," Spock confirmed, then addressed himself to Mbaruku. "Dr. Uhura, do you have an inquiry?"

With the commander's seven words—all in a row—now all eyes were on him. Mbaruku had to come clean. "I may have misunderstood a point of Vulcan culture that I read about. But my misunderstanding is cleared up now."

"What was it?" Nyota asked. "I promise, no one will get mad."

_Famous last words, Nyota_ , he thought. But Nyota and Commander Spock had, themselves, invited his question. Faizah would not be able to chastise him for it now. It was time to break the ice and awkwardness of beginning necessary conversations.

"I read that in Vulcan culture, only a man's wife is allowed to serve him food. So when Nyota insisted on serving the commander's uji, I wondered if—"

"—If we were married? You thought that we…Omigod! Baba!" Nyota started laughing hysterically.

"Mbaru!" Faizah looked at him incredulously and shook her head.

Mbaruku's discomfort was augmented by the warm flush to his face. "Well, my daughter…I told you that it was embarrassing, but you wanted to know!"

"It's OK, Baba," Nyota said after catching her breath. "Really."

"Form dictates that one follow local custom provided that it does not violate one's mores," Spock stated calmly. "Are we not following local custom?"

"We are," Nyota confirmed. "Besides, if we were following Vulcan custom, we wouldn't be talking during the meal."

"That might not have been such a bad idea," Mbaruku stated, still embarrassed, yet working to regain control of the conversation. "But it wouldn't have cleared up the misunderstanding."

"Agreed," Spock said, then narrowed his own gaze at Mbaruku. "Are there additional misunderstandings to 'clear up' at this time?"

Nyota looked at Spock, surprised. Clearly she had not expected this. Nor had Mbaruku. Faizah looked shocked as well.

Commander Spock was going on the offensive. Maybe he was as eager to clear the air as much as Mbaruku was. For what reasons, Mbaruku could only guess. Though his tone was respectful, this Starfleet officer's posture was firm and battle-ready. Commander Spock projected every bit of the "commander" in his rank. The Vulcan's intense eyes met Mbaruku's, inviting Mbaruku's next move…

 


	4. Father-Warrior vs. Wise Old Owl

Thankfully, Commander Spock's direct question had punched through the awkwardness. But if Mbaruku once thought he could win the upper hand in the inevitable conversation, he did no longer. Commander Spock's intense eye contact told him that the younger man refused a submissive status, his careful formality fortifying his aura of authority. The fire beneath the calm exterior could, if provoked far enough, prove explosive. For the first time, he realized the potential depth of Vulcan emotion that Faizah had warned him about.

Mbaruku evaluated the situation before him. If the younger man insisted on having a conflict, then Mbaruku believed he could face off with him, if necessary. But, his own inner turmoil aside, this was not the time to lose his cool and inflict a wound on the relationship with his daughter. The more he looked, the more evidence he saw that she was deeply in love. Had Nyota lost her common sense? He did not think so, but he could not be sure. Love had a way of blinding reason, even the kind of reason that should be telling her to avoid a relationship with an instructor, superior officer, and Vulcan.

Even now, if Mbaruku interpreted the movement in Nyota's upper arm and shoulder correctly, she was touching him underneath the table's surface. Nyota gave Spock supportive glances in conjunction with her movements, reinforcing Mbaruku's supposition.

The Vulcan moments ago had asked about clearing up misunderstandings. He was waiting for an answer.

Faizah broke the silence. "Gentlemen. Is it time to have a certain conversation?"

Eyeing each other, both men nodded affirmatively.

"Then we shall have it, but let us eat first. We will all feel better on full stomachs, and then we can give each other our full attention. Are we agreed?"

"That is wise," the Vulcan said, glancing up at Faizah for a second, then returned his stare to Mbaruku.

"You have no argument from me," Mbaruku said, answering Commander Spock's stare before moving his eyes toward his daughter. "Nyota?"

"Yes, we have to talk," she said, suddenly looking less hungry.

Faizah patted her arm. "Good. Let us finish our breakfast."

Vulcan custom or not, the four members returned to eating, this time silently.

Each swallow became more difficult as Mbaruku tried to finish his last few bites. As nervousness set in, Mbaruku's stomach refused to expand or accept the last spoonful of uji. However, the Vulcan maintained a mask of calm. Mbaruku was determined to exude an air of calm as well. Between the last few spoonful of uji and last few bites of fruit, he stole occasional glances to the other side of the table.

Until now, Mbaruku had observed the commander interacting with Nyota and Faizah, but he had not looked more closely at this "boy" himself. Mbaruku's first impressions remained intact. The younger's strong features and powerful bearing was a kind of presence that effortlessly drew attention, though, Mbaruku noted, Commander Spock tried to avoid it with his more quiet manner. His dark hair lay perfectly in the classic Vulcan cut, accentuating the angular, high cheekbones and pointed ears. He presented a tidy appearance—clean-shaven, clothing obviously tailored and well-fit to his form, neatly trimmed nails. No doubt that within that well-toned body were muscles gifted with the strength that Vulcan genes bestowed. Every movement was precise, with purpose. The connection between a disciplined mind and body was there—quintessentially Vulcan, at least to Mbaruku's eyes.

Mbaruku tried to ignore the alien features and look deeper, as Nyota and Faizah obviously had, to consider Spock The Individual. That same aura of intelligence and authority that had rippled from him weeks ago at Nyota's graduation ceremony now hit Mbaruku in waves. Perhaps the commander's strength of personality in these aspects had swept Nyota away. Throughout her life, Mbaruku's daughter had found few people who matched her genius intellect or her dogged drive. Commander Spock matched both.

But, who was he really? He still had no grasp of the person behind the persona.

In looking for his answers, he had to tread carefully, especially as he looked at Nyota, then at Nyota and the commander together. After two years in this relationship, they were undoubtedly a couple. They sat together like a couple. They exchanged small glances and touches that they alone understood, just like a couple. In some ways, they looked like a younger version of Faizah and himself.

The commander's impeccable record made finding fault difficult. Mbaruku recalled how Faizah's own father had interrogated his younger self, looked for any fault or deficiency, and how much his younger self had not liked it. Spock surely would not like it. Nyota would like it even less.

Still, the father-warrior continued his evaluation. The mysteries of an interspecies relationship and the fraternization and rule-breaking issues continued to nag at him. Had Nyota been unduly influenced and compromised? If this continued, would Nyota be all right?

Mbaruku brought his eyes up again for another look and met the Vulcan's eyes doing the same thing. So, maybe the Vulcan had been preparing for the inevitable conversation as he had. Well, Mbaruku supposed, one did not work one's way up the chain of command in Starfleet as rapidly as Commander Spock had without always being prepared—or more than prepared—for any situation or an opponent. That thought did nothing to ease Mbaruku's own apprehensions, but he had to respect the Vulcan.

The two continued to assess each other. Neither looked away. Was this another challenge? No, the commander's eyes seemed more inquisitive than challenging. But this moment, stretching into longer than a moment, was becoming awkward as neither of the two men seemed to know how to look away from the other.

The visual stalemate caught Faizah's notice. "More chai?" she asked, drawing the men's attention, breaking the silent skirmish.

"I will have some more." Mbaruku nodded gratitude to Faizah. She seemed to understand the predicament and nodded back, her lips turned slightly upward in amusement.

Faizah filled Mbaruku's mug. "Spock?"

"No, thank you."

Nyota's amused expression was a twin to her mother's. Mbaruku realized that she had been observing the interaction, watching her two men sizing up one another. She quietly shook her head, smiled at her father, gave Spock another supportive glance, and tried to resume eating. The commander returned her glance, and an eyebrow rose slightly. Suddenly she tilted her head forward and looked directly at him. He straightened somewhat and adopted an aristocratic air. Then Nyota's lips quivered and her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to repress a smile, maybe even laughter.

Now Mbaruku knew that they had been communicating beyond glances, which explained the subtle touches between the two under the table. Vulcans were touch-telepaths. It made him uncomfortable, wondering if it was simply conversation or whether the commander was implementing some kind of mind control over his daughter. If so, surely a Vulcan would not be trying to make Nyota laugh. Other than obviously being in love, Nyota seemed like herself. If Mbaruku had to guess, Nyota had just teased the commander during their game of mental tennis.

As everyone's focus no longer fell on the few leftover morsels of food on their plates, Faizah got up to clear the table. The second she did, Nyota, the commander, and Mbaruku abruptly stood up and brought their own place settings to the cleaning unit. They had run out of reasons to delay. It was time to have that talk.

**-o0o-**

Mbaruku and Faizah led Nyota and Spock to the far end of the living room, to an alcove surrounded by windows overlooking the gardens outside. A short couch abutted the longer wall. Two chairs flanked either side of the couch. In the center of this U-shaped arrangement, a low houseplant, in its wide-based pottery bowl, occupied the center of a low table. Low pedestals on either side of the couch held brass pots with ferns.

Faizah gestured to the couch. "Nyota, why don't you and Spock have a seat there. Your father will, undoubtedly, want _his_ chair."

The chair against the left wall offered the best view of Faizah's gardens outside. This spot had become Mbaruku's favorite, and he sat there quite often. Nyota took the spot on the couch nearest her father, Spock sat closer to Faizah's seat.

So, now with everyone in place, it was time to begin. Spock sat impassively. Nyota steadied herself. Faizah simply sat back—she appeared the most relaxed of all of them. But her eyes remained vigilant.

Finally, the time for explanations and revelations had come. With that moment now upon them, Mbaruku suddenly could not decide which scenario formulated over breakfast he should initiate. More awkward seconds passed. The four remained silent, waiting for someone to begin.

Finally, impatiently, Nyota straightened. "I need to say a few things… Baba, Mama, I am sorry that I did not tell you about us earlier. I couldn't. Telling anyone would have risked discovery, so Spock and I had to keep this secret. I know that you have been hurt, and I am sorry, truly sorry for that. I love you. I wanted to tell you, but the risk was too great."

Mbaruku could understand that as his daughter now turned to him.

"Baba, you have questions. Please understand that we may not be able to answer all of them for personal, cultural, or security concerns. But we will answer what we can."

Mbaruku acknowledged her comments with a nod, then watched Nyota steel herself for an uneasy onslaught. Her lips thinned. She sat up ramrod straight, almost as straight as Commander Spock did. Her chin jutted out just a bit—defiantly maybe? This was not good. Despite her words, she was bracing her defenses for a confrontation if this conversation became that. He worried that she would erect a wall between him and her, though she never had before. Even during Nyota's adolescence as she vied for the independence that those of that age sought, she and Mbaruku had managed to maintain a loving parent-child relationship as they weathered their disagreements. But as an adult now choosing a life companion, she could very well choose to make a final break and walk away if this went badly.

Commander Spock had indicated his readiness for this conversation and remained patiently waiting. Faizah seemed concerned for the Vulcan's well-being as she eyed Mbaruku, beseeching him to be gentle.

It was his move. Was he truly ready for this?

Relaxing his upright posture, settling back into his chair's cushions, he tried picturing the Vulcan as less of a Starfleet officer, but as the "nice boy" that Faizah had seen, the "boyfriend" who now sat closely to Nyota.

The commander, in turn, continued to examine him while waiting for the first inquiry. The mind behind those dark, intense eyes… Mbaruku felt the commander anticipating Mbaruku's every possible volley, calculating dozens of possible responses and potential outcomes.

What was wrong with him? Why could Mbaruku not start this conversation? The others would soon see through his façade of calmness. The truth was, his mind raced. The pressure of selecting the right approach nearly paralyzed him. Faizah now looked concerned.

Then it hit him. Funny how the mind worked, he mused, as an old poem from childhood, a verse taught in his school's Standard class, inserted itself suddenly into mind:

 _A wise old owl sat on an oak_  
The more he saw, the less he spoke  
The less he spoke, the more he heard  
Why aren't we like that wise old bird?

Momentarily amused, he laughed to himself. His subconscious was guiding him with the same advice that Faizah had given. Restrain the screaming father-warrior. Be the historian, the academic. Listen and gather information first, analyze and come to conclusions later. It was fair. It was rational. The father-warrior continued to protest, but Mbaruku reminded that part of himself that even a warrior had to carefully consider whether he had cause to fight.

So, it was his move. Time to make it. He adopted his most professorial bearing, breathed in, and made his request calmly.

"Tell us your story."

His words hung over them.

Nyota, who had been braced for an interrogation, blinked. "What?"

"Your story, of the two of you, from the beginning. Tell your mother and me about yourselves."

Faizah's expression softened. She approved.

Nyota and the commander looked at each other, Nyota plainly surprised. The Vulcan looked back at Mbaruku, narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head. Oh, yes, they had been prepared for battle, and Mbaruku had caught them off-guard. He relaxed further into the chair's cushions, more satisfied than he had been in weeks.

 


	5. The Talk

"Who would like to start?" Mbaruku prompted. His confidence in this less threatening approach now bolstered, he tried to look even more relaxed. "Nyota…? You start." What the pair revealed and did not choose to reveal would speak volumes. He hoped that—finally—he could find some relief for his curiosity and concerns.

Nyota and Commander Spock exchanged glances. He nodded to her, granting some kind of permission.

"Well, uh, I first met Spock in his advanced Vulcan class at the beginning of my second year. He had just returned from service aboard an exploration vessel with Captain Pike. Command posted him at the Academy until construction of the _Enterprise_ was complete. I did not meet him one-on-one until a couple weeks later during office hours when I had to ask a question about an assignment. After that, during the first half of the year, we saw each other almost daily in class, sometimes outside of it if I needed help. As my coursework advanced, I consulted him more often. By the end of the year, we had a standing appointment on Thursdays to review my projects and my progress. Because we had to fit our appointments in between classes and activities, we started meeting for lunch hour at the Academy cafeteria or, when I had a few extra credits, at Verna's Vegetarian Café off campus.

"At the end of that year, Commander Raiyal—our department head—announced that she was accepting applications for teaching assistants for the next year. I applied. Because my grades were good and I specialized in Vulcan-Romulan studies, she recommended me to Spock, and he agreed to take me on even earlier, starting with the summer session. We met each other three mornings a week to develop the first-semester lesson plans and course materials. With my new job, the Academy increased my stipend. Spock and I met at Verna's for lunch every Thursday after that. We both needed a break from the cafeteria—well, I did, at least."

Nothing too controversial during that first year, Mbaruku thought. He remembered Nyota mentioning how happy she had been to receive that assistant posting at that time.

"During this time, we became friends," Nyota continued. "We could not be close friends because of the Academy's student-instructor fraternization policies, though technically they did not apply because I was no longer Spock's student. But Spock was an officer and I was a cadet, so we kept our friendship at a professional level."

This also sounded reasonable to Mbaruku. Several of his current friendships were with people who had started as his students. As those students progressed through their graduate studies, these relationships developed into deeper friendships. Many of these people were now Mbaruku's colleagues.

Nyota shifted on the couch. "Well, that's where I thought we had kept it until I came home during summer leave two years ago…. Mama, remember that day after Aisha's birthday party when you asked me if I was all right? You said I seemed depressed, but I had to keep telling you that I was OK?"

Faizah nodded. "Yes, I remember. I had wondered if you had ended a relationship I knew nothing about. You were acting as your sister does whenever she ends one."

Nyota shook her head. "You were right. I was depressed, but it was not about a relationship I had ended. I was depressed about a relationship I could never hope to start. After a week away from Spock, I realized that I missed him. Then I realized that I was attracted to him. I spent the rest of the month telling myself to stop it. It wasn't going to happen. I was a cadet; he was an officer. There were too many differences. I was being stupid. I had to get over it. It was pathetic!"

"You could never be 'pathetic,'" Faizah soothed sympathetically.

Nyota laughed. "Oh, yes, I could! I did more moping than sleeping in my room—I'm glad you didn't see that! I loved being home, but I couldn't wait to return to the Academy, and then I was just as scared to return! I kept telling myself that 'We mighty Starfleet cadets don't run from our fears. We deal with them!'" Nyota breathed out and rolled her eyes. "My stupid crush was not going to screw up my work or our friendship, and I refused to join the legions of other besotted, smitten, infatuated, lovesick schoolgirls pining after Spock."

After Nyota's humorous string of adjectives, Spock's eyebrows rose in question. So did Mbaruku's.

"Nyota?" Spock asked.

Nyota harrumphed at the clueless man next to her. "You can't tell me you didn't notice! There were at least eight members of the Spock Appreciation Society that I knew of, and Cadet Meyerson was the leader. Didn't you see how she kept trying to get your attention? How many times did she 'forget' her project PADD in your office just so she'd have to come back and get it?"

Spock's brow furrowed. "The repeated incidences of 'forgetfulness' were puzzling, and the cadet did have a propensity to engage in a higher degree of 'small talk' than the general cadet population."

Nyota rolled her eyes again. "She was flirting with you."

"I did not recognize that."

Mbaruku mused at how the commander's innocent expression rivaled that of a kitten's.

Nyota briefly touched her boyfriend's forearm lightly. "I'm glad you didn't," she laughed. "Anyone else who saw it thought she was embarrassing herself because, whether you knew what she was doing or not, you obviously were not interested."

"No. I was not," he stated sternly. "That is certain."

Mbaruku noted how the commander now drew himself up, gathering a cape of Vulcan dignity around himself. The commander's disinterest in engaging in casual relationships with obviously willing women was oddly comforting, however. And, at least up to this point in the story, it sounded like the commander had done nothing to encourage romantic interest from Nyota.

Nyota took a deep breath before continuing. "I didn't want to be another Meyerson. I was going to do my job, and Spock would never know about my feelings if I could help it."

Mbaruku held up his hand. "What attracted you to the commander?"

Nyota lips turned upward in a shy smile. "I enjoyed working with him. He was one of my best instructors. He was…I don't know…intriguing."

Mbaruku could not fault her for that. Commander Spock was enigmatic on many levels.

"How so?" Mbaruku pushed, watching the commander's expression flicker briefly with discomfort upon Nyota's declaration before he returned to his mask of calm.

"He's the most intelligent person I've ever met, and I enjoyed talking to him. At first we talked mostly about coursework, language, and culture. Then our conversations started getting longer, and we could talk for hours about many things. Although he was teaching language courses, his specialty is the sciences, so he began advising me on my science coursework and projects, too. Then he started teaching me about Vulcan music after I found out that he plays the piano and ka'athyra—a ka'athyra is like a small harp, but with a modulator that changes the pitch. The more we talked, the more I learned about him. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know him better. Does that make sense?"

For someone with Nyota's natural curiosity, Mbaruku understood how the commander's unique background, musical talents, and impressive depth and breadth of knowledge could capture her attention. "It does," he acknowledged. "It does not explain your quote, unquote 'stupid crush' or the lovesickness, however. You can work with someone and find that person interesting without developing an emotional interest. Commander," he had to ask, just to be sure, "you did not encourage such an interest, did you?"

Spock looked slightly affronted. "No, Sir."

"How did it happen, then?"

"I don't know, Baba. Sometime before I came home on leave, I connected with him. The first time I saw him after I returned to the Academy, I knew I had fallen in love."

"How did you know that it was 'love'?"

Nyota looked directly at her father. "How did you know that you had fallen in love with Mama?" she challenged.

Mbaruku shrugged. "Point taken."

"That must have been very difficult," Faizah said. "What did you do?"

"I followed through on my decision that Spock was never going to find out. I had to keep it to myself and keep that 'stiff upper lip,' as they say. It was hard, especially after we started working together again. I tried to keep my distance, keep everything business-like. I even tried to be cold and distant. Every time I tried, though, I knew it confused him—it's not like he had done anything to me. I felt so guilty."

Faizah's voice was sympathetic. "Did you ever ask her about it, Spock?"

"No," the Vulcan replied quietly, obviously out of his comfort zone.

"And he wouldn't ask," Nyota affirmed. "A Vulcan would never ask another person about his or her emotional state unless it had effects that couldn't be ignored, as in a medical situation, or a condition that creates a threat to others. Inquiries on that subject are an invasion of privacy, and they may compromise emotional control. That is why they are forbidden except in rare cases. And we didn't have the kind of relationship that would allow him to ask me anything that could clue him into what was bothering me.

"He knew something was going on, that I was upset. I could see that he knew, but we kept working together as we always had. It was getting to be impossible. I was afraid I was going to break one day."

Mbaruku had to admit to himself that Nyota had put up a valiant effort. "Then how did he find out?"

Nyota looked to Spock, offering an expression of encouragement. Mbaruku guessed that this next part of their story was about to reveal something very private to him.

"It happened while I was on a training exercise," Nyota continued. "I never told you about this, either, so please don't get upset. I wasn't seriously injured—"

"—Not seriously injured? Nyota!" Despite Nyota's request, this detail upset Faizah anyway. "You never said that you were ever injured at all."

"No, because I knew that you would worry too much. Most cadets are injured sometime during their time at the Academy," Nyota explained, though Faizah now looked her up and down, as if she could detect unmentioned injuries that had healed long ago. "It reminds us to focus on our task, and, believe me, once you've been injured because you didn't pay full attention to what you are doing, or because you were not thorough in checking out your equipment, you never make that mistake again. People who are repeatedly injured usually figure out that Starfleet is not for them."

"Was the commander with you on the training exercise?" Mbaruku asked, eager to get on with the story.

"No, Spock was back at the Academy teaching his classes, and my unit was out at Yosemite. Several of us were scaling a rock face. Cadet Jarrel didn't anchor his climbing gear properly, and it came loose. He fell past me, but his equipment fell on top of me, which knocked me in the head and made me lose my own grip. I fell about 50 meters before my safety harness caught me, after I had bounced against the cliff a few times."

At this point, Nyota looked up at the Vulcan. Mbaruku felt that here was the major turning point in Nyota's story.

"As I fell, when I didn't know whether my harness would function or not with Jarrel's gear caught in mine, I almost screamed out to Spock for help. He was the first one I thought of. I wanted him there. And, after I stopped falling, when I was dangling there waiting to be rescued, I wondered why my last thoughts before my imminent death were of him. I knew I was hopeless."

"How, then, did Spock find out how you felt?" Faizah asked.

"At the moment I fell, his mind heard me cry out for him."

Mbaruku sat up, stunned. _What?_

Faizah's eyes opened wide. "How was that possible?"

Nyota shook her head. "We don't know. We were not a bonded couple."

"Bonded couple?" Mbaruku was unfamiliar with what that meant.

Nyota looked at the Vulcan again, again seeking his silent permission. He nodded to her.

Nyota's face took on a deeper seriousness. "What I am about to tell you is very private and very personal to any Vulcan and would not normally be discussed. Spock is letting me tell you because he knows how important it is to me that you understand. No matter what, you cannot reveal what I tell you to anyone else. Can you promise us this?"

At this point, Mbaruku would have promised anything to find out what had happened between the two. He wondered what he would do if he learned something alarming. Could he fulfill a promise to keep such details secret?

"I will promise," Faizah answered, "but, Spock, I worry. Is this too personal for you? I do want to know more, and I want to understand. At the same time, I do not want Nyota to tell us anything you might regret later." She met his eyes sympathetically.

Alarms went off in Mbaruku's head. _What was Faizah doing?_ Maybe she could live without knowing more, but he could not—especially after the part about minds and bonded couples and…what else would Nyota say?

One eyebrow rose, and the Vulcan's voice was almost warm as he answered Faizah. "Your consideration is most appreciated. However, this information is necessary."

"Thank you, Spock." Faizah moved her gaze to Mbaruku. "Mbaru?"

He decided to make his move before Faizah scuttled the opportunity. "I make my promise as well."

Nyota began. "There are many kinds of mental bonds between Vulcans. There are family links, links between very good friends, and betrothal and marriage bonds. Humans use touch to establish or promote their relationships; Vulcans use telepathic links in theirs. Typically establishing a Vulcan bond requires touch and formal protocols, or frequent contact between members of a family. But Spock and I had none of that. In all the time that I had known him, we had rarely touched each other, and even that was accidental. Everyone knows that you don't touch a touch-telepath. Vulcans, as touch-telepaths, avoid physical contact with others to avoid invading their privacy."

Nyota looked from parent to the other, as if to ensure that they understood so far. Mbaruku nodded his acknowledgment, as did Faizah.

"I decided that my infatuation with Spock was futile and too distracting, and I intended to resign my assistant position once we returned to the Academy," Nyota continued. "But when I got back, Spock met our unit at the transportation terminal. He told the cadet captain that he 'required' my presence and asked for my release for the rest of the day. The cadet captain had no reason not to grant Spock's request, so Spock and I went to his office.

"When we were alone, Spock confronted me and told me about strong sensations that he had felt from my mind. They had seized him while he was teaching a class. It was like an assault. He nearly passed out, which, of course, concerned him. He wanted to know what my psi rating was, demanded to know why _I_ had done that to _him_." Nyota's voice crescendoed as she recalled the moment. "That's when I reached the end of my frustration and blew up at him. I told him that _I_ had _nothing_ to do with that. Just for his information, I had simply been falling to my death at the time and, sorry to say, could not control my impulses. I had _no_ idea that I could reach him that way. _He_ was the telepath. Maybe _he_ should supply the explanation because I sure would love to know how that had happened!"

After reliving that intense scene, Nyota breathed out, calmed herself, and resumed more quietly. "And then he just looked at me, and I knew that the attraction was not one-sided anymore, that maybe it had never been. At that moment, everything changed. He realized that my dying thoughts were of him and that something had linked us."

Mbaruku exchanged an expression of surprise with his wife across the table. What a shock it must have been for the younger couple at that moment. He returned his attention to Nyota.

"If we were going to figure it out, we had to be honest. I confessed what I had been feeling and how much I had tried to fight it. But then I started thinking about all the time we spent together discussing my coursework or working on our projects. I realized that during the last few months, he had looked forward to our work sessions as much as I had, and I pointed that out to him. We had wanted to be together, and our work had been the means for being together. We had acknowledged our friendship before. So I asked him, point-blank, had we become more than that? After thinking about it, he realized that he had been having similar issues for as long as I had, and he said so."

At this point, the commander's façade broke. No longer making eye contact with either Mbaruku or Faizah, he stared at a point across the room, embarrassed. Commander Spock had fallen for his daughter as much as Nyota had fallen for him. Was it love on his part? In deference to Vulcan privacy, Mbaruku could not ask. At the very least, he surmised that the Vulcan had been pulled into an attraction that he could not control. Mbaruku wondered how difficult revealing this information against cultural restrictions had been. But, to his credit, the Vulcan had not restricted Nyota from revealing it, which increased Mbaruku's respect for the younger's character.

Nyota seemed to recognize how much this admission had cost her beloved, so she continued more carefully. "We talked through our concerns, about what we could do to end it. Spock even considered transferring to another assignment. We spent the next two weeks talking about it, looking at possibilities. The problem was, now that we knew about our relationship, neither of us wanted to end it. And we came to the conclusion that, even without touch, our mind link resulted because we were uniquely matched to each other. Spock said that a link that originated as ours had was rare and might be difficult to dissolve. So, 'logically'…" Nyota sighed. "Logically, instead of expending more energy fighting this relationship, it might be better to continue to see how strong it was."

 _Why,_ Mbaruku thought to himself, _did this sound like the ultimate pick-up line: "A love like ours is so rare, we cannot let it go"?_

"Commander," he began, "is it truly a 'rare ' situation?"

The Vulcan seemed to sense his skepticism. "It is," he replied tightly, still looking slightly embarrassed. "To actively form a link without the consent of both parties is immoral. As neither Nyota nor I did so, it is a singular development."

"Perhaps," Mbaruku shot back, worry chipping away at his own façade of calm, "but did you consider the ramifications to your careers—for Nyota's career—when you decided to continue?"

"Baba…," Nyota frowned.

"Mbaru…." Faizah's Glare of Death shot across the low table in warning.

Mbaruku, however, still had to get his biggest concerns out there. "And what about the fraternization policies? What would you have done if you had been discovered?"

"Sir, Nyota's best interests were and remain my greatest concern."

His embarrassment gone, Commander Spock's dark eyes flashed. The young man remained carefully seated as he regarded Mbaruku. Now that the commander was talking in longer sentences, Mbaruku was inexplicably grateful that there was a table between them, though it would do no good if the younger ever decided to go after him physically. Still, this low barrier added a measure of psychological comfort.

"Baba, please…," Nyota cajoled. "Listen. We looked at everything before we decided on remaining together, and it _was_ the direction that met our best interests. I would not have been able to concentrate on my studies if he had gone away. Even with our new relationship, I was still gaining valuable experience working as his assistant, just as I was before. Spock was getting the help he needed for his classes. And, to tell you the truth, he was probably harder on me professionally. Knowing me better, he found out that my limits were higher than he had expected. So he pushed."

Nyota smiled a little and looked at Spock out of the corner of her eye. "People actually thought I was crazy staying on as his assistant."

The commander's eyes went skyward. "I heard," he remarked drily. "On numerous occasions."

Nyota and Faizah broke out laughing.

Mbaruku tilted his own head. Faizah's observations on the Vulcan's unexpected sense of humor were spot-on.

"And if anybody had found out," Nyota added, "then they would have had to prove that our relationship directly affected my grades or standing at the Academy. My grades were no longer an issue because Spock was not grading me, and my placement as his assistant was Commander Raiyal's suggestion, not Spock's. There is also leeway allowed for inherent biological conditions. If our bond had come into question, then we could have used that as justification. A Vulcan healer could have confirmed what had happened. It's not something that either Spock or I could have controlled or expected. There are no 'mind link suppressants' that a Vulcan can take, not like the pheromone suppressants available to Deltans or Orions."

Mbaruku had to agree that his daughter and the commander had thought through their situation. "Besides the four of us, who else knows of your relationship?"

"Sarek. Some of our crewmates know, but they don't know much, and they have kept quiet about it. There isn't much to talk about when we don't tell them anything, and so far nobody's asked," Nyota answered. "You and Sarek are the only ones who know our history."

Yes, Mbaruku remembered, Ambassador Sarek had been aboard the ship during the battle with Nero. Perhaps his daughter and Sarek's son had informed him during the journey back to Earth after the Narada's destruction. Mbaruku briefly wondered if the ambassador shared some of his concerns. He had one more question. "What are your intentions now?"

Commander Spock closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, looking across the room again. Nyota touched his forearm lightly, and he relaxed slightly.

"Baba, our intentions are to continue building the relationship we have while exploring possibilities for the future. I am happy with that, it works for Spock. We're taking it slowly. We need to adjust to our new jobs and circumstances.…" Nyota looked again to the younger man. "Too much has happened recently. We can't make long-term decisions right now except," she stated quietly, "we will remain together."

This time she laid her hand onto one of the Vulcan's and closed her eyes, silently communicating with him. The fire that had been behind the Vulcan's eyes diminished as they concentrated elsewhere, looking beyond the objects in the room, perhaps focusing on the memories of a planet being sucked into nothingness. Though subtle, it was painful to see.

This conversation was at an end. Faizah rose to leave the young pair alone and beckoned to Mbaruku to do the same.

Mbaruku now had the answers to his most pressing questions, and he needed time to consider them. Although he wanted to know more, any desire that the father-warrior had to interrogate the younger man further was gone.

 


	6. Currents

Mbaruku and Faizah walked out to the garden where Mbaruku found his favorite lounge chair under the tree and sat. Faizah took the bench next to it and settled in, leaning her head back while she took a few deep breaths. Mbaruku followed her example, trying to integrate the fact that their world had changed.

Nyota and Commander Spock's story settled many of his concerns, and being honest with himself, as he reviewed everything they had revealed to him as well as his own research, he could find little fault in their actions. They had behaved honorably given their circumstances, trying to reconcile the standards of Starfleet Academy with their own attraction to each other. Mbaruku remained uncomfortable, however.

After a few quiet moments, he spoke. "They are together, unquestionably."

Faizah returned her head to an upright position. "Do you approve?"

"I can neither approve nor disapprove because I do not understand entirely," he replied. "But I will accept it."

Faizah leaned forward and entwined her fingers with his. "Nyota will be relieved. I think that she intends to keep him around for a while."

"For the rest of our lives," he sighed, uneasily acknowledging that conclusion out loud for the first time before adding to it. "Nyota's mouth says that they are together for now; her eyes say 'forever.' We can forego the wedding—for all intents and purposes, they are already married." He felt a pang of loss. Yes, perhaps that was the source of his concern. His eldest truly had left him to become someone's else's, first and foremost.

Faizah tilted her head to one side. "Ah, I don't think it's gone that far."

"Hmm, I think it has," he differed. Inside new worries replaced older ones. Would the commander take Nyota and go to the new Vulcan colony? How often would he and Faizah see their daughter once she left? They rarely saw her now.

"Even if it has, she has found the one destined for her. Be happy for her," Faizah urged.

"But can she be happy?"

"She already is. Just think, our brilliant and beautiful girl has graduated from the Academy with honors. She is the chief communications officer on the Federation flagship. She has found her soulmate, a brave and brilliant and beautiful man who just happens to come from Vulcan. We never expected this, but I can't say that I mind…now that I know him and have seen them together. The two of them understand that they have a unique relationship and are realistic about it."

Mbaruku reflected on Faizah's words. "It won't be easy for her, for them. How many obstacles will they have to deal with?  Cultural and biological differences, societal attitudes…and, as you said, Commander Spock is a wounded being right now, and his wounds are deep. Emotional control or not, they will affect him, and they may affect her. I worry. I don't want her to be hurt, by him or anyone else."

"Nor do I, but this is not our choice." Faizah squeezed his hand signaling her understanding, even as her face reflected determination. "She grew up and is living her life, as we had hoped. Will they make it? I think so. He is resilient, and so is Nyota. They are intelligent enough to deal with most things, committed enough to work through the rough spots, connected enough to know what the other needs. He let Nyota tell the story of their relationship. He knew that she needed to explain it to us. As uncomfortable as it was for him, he sat there, supporting her, answering our questions. If anyone hurts her, it won't be Spock."

Mbaruku sensed warning in Faizah's words, though Faizah looked upon him gently.

"I am optimistic," Faizah continued. "My feeling is that wherever Nyota is, that is where Spock will be. Once they do marry, it will be for life."

Mbaruku reluctantly accepted Faizah's assessment. The "bond" that the younger pair had spoken of had been evident in their silent interactions last night, during breakfast, and as they told their story.

Faizah removed her hand from Mbaruku's and sat up straight. "The way we help them through their obstacles is to support them. Mbaru, he cannot be 'Commander Spock' to you anymore. He is 'Spock,' Nyota's choice, the man she brought home to us. If you think that they are married in all but name, then stop keeping your 'son-in-law' at a distance."

Mbaruku's head jerked up at the term "son-in-law," reality kicking him in the teeth. Faizah was right. How could he get to know the younger, though? He remained unsure. While Faizah had quickly struck up an easy camaraderie, Mbaruku and the young Vulcan had spent most of their time together eyeing each other warily.

The sound of a door opening and closing, then the sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention as Nyota found her way down the path. She approached her parents somewhat cautiously. Mbaruku noted that she seemed uncomfortable, maybe afraid.

She broke the silence. "Hey there…"

Mbaruku was not sure how to read his daughter, who crossed her arms around her, though she directed a small smile toward them. Contained on her face were a simultaneous tiredness, relief, sadness, trepidation…

Faizah beckoned their daughter to her, reached out and hugged Nyota as soon as Nyota stood in front of her, then patted the spot on the bench, inviting Nyota to sit. "My girl…are you all right?"

"Yes, Mama." Nyota took her seat.

"Where is Spock?"

"Meditating in his room."

"We weren't too hard on him, I hope." Faizah's voice held concern.

Nyota shook her head. "No. We expected it would be harder. Thank you for making it easier." She looked up at Mbaruku. "It was… Spock and I…," Nyota began nervously. "I hope that you understand us better," she said finally.

"We do now," Mbaruku stated, still concerned. "Perhaps we do not understand everything, but it is enough at this time."

Nyota nodded back at him, still appearing apprehensive. Was she actually trembling as she waited for some kind of verdict? Faizah touched Nyota's shoulder, a renewed concern evident on her face before her eyes sent Mbaruku a clear message. Mbaruku knew what Faizah wanted, what she was insisting that he say.

Nyota's obvious worry incited a greater concern. She _was_ waiting for a judgment, waiting to know where she stood with her parents in their eyes. Did she truly think that anything had changed? Finally, even for Mbaruku, it was too much.

Without hesitation, Mbaruku spoke the necessary words to set his daughter's mind at rest. "Nyota, you and Spock have our blessing," he said tenderly, hoping that she would believe it. "We will support you both."

Nyota's eyes shot up in surprise. Though she now sat up straight, her body simultaneously relaxed somehow. Mbaruku had not realized the degree of her tension; the contrast in body carriage, however, made Nyota's previous tension levels apparent. She looked at to her father, elation and joy and relief all fighting for control of her features. Her eyes glistened as the emotional relief at Mbaruku's pronouncement overtook her. "You will…?" she gasped.

It was time for reassurance. Mbaruku rose from his chair and reached out for his daughter.

"Baba!"

Nyota jumped up from her seat on the bench and nearly flung herself into Mbaruku's arms, just as she had as a child. She was so thin that Mbaruku had no problem encircling her with his arms as she, in turn, constricted him in a bear hug at the base of his lungs. Tears of relief showered his left shoulder, and she began to sob. And sob. Seconds passed into minutes as she held onto her father as if the stability of her world depended on it. 

Mbaruku, shocked, could do nothing more than hold his oldest child. As worried as he had been, so, apparently, had she. He held her tighter and she sobbed harder, releasing an incredible flood of emotion that she, no doubt, had been holding back for quite some time.

"Baby Girl…," he soothed, using an endearment he had not used since her departure for the Academy years earlier. "Sh-sh-sh…it is all right. See?"

Nyota had reverted to a younger version of herself, no longer the Starfleet officer and Federation hero, but Mbaruku's daughter, needing her father's consolation. "I…," she choked, looking up, "…I was…afraid…that you would hate him." Another sob burst from her chest, followed by more tears from red, rapidly swelling eyes.

"Sh-sh-sh…." Now Mbaruku's right shoulder dampened as Nyota now buried her face there. Realizing the enormous emotional pressures she had been holding in was torture to him. Had she really feared that he would reject her? Had he contributed to her fear? Though he did not want to think about it, Mbaruku was an honest man. He considered it.

Faizah produced a tissue from somewhere and gave it to him. He wiped his daughter's tears and she continued to press into him.

"It's…been hard," Nyota continued, trying to catch her breath. "Really hard…"

Now Faizah was stroking her back. "We know, Baby, we know…"

"We couldn't tell you…." Nyota's voice disappeared on the last syllable.

"I know," Mbaruku said. "We understand."

As difficult as revelation of this relationship had been on Faizah and himself, Mbaruku was realizing just how much more difficult this episode had been on Nyota. Perhaps Commander Spock, too, had faced additional stresses, being more vulnerable to them after the loss of his mother and his world.

_Commander_ Spock? _Stop._ Faizah was right. No more titles. The young man's name was "Spock," Nyota's chosen. Mbaruku had to start thinking of him that way.

"Spock" was key to his daughter's happiness—he could see that now—but Mbaruku and Faizah's approval were also essential. He felt it with every heave of Nyota's abdomen as she tried to catch her breath between sobs. As she released her fears and worry, his shoulder—the whole left side of his chest, actually—was thoroughly soaked. He hardly noticed.

"Baby Girl, you did not think that we would stop loving you, now, did you?" he asked.

Nyota was gulping for air, trying to calm herself, still pressed against Mbaruku's shoulder. She could not answer.

"That is not going to happen; it was never going to happen," he said, grateful that she seemed to be calming down. "We only want you to be safe and happy."

Faizah continued to stroke her back. "It's true," she soothed. "You and Spock will be good together."

"I almost lost him…during the battle," Nyota whispered, her eyes suddenly haunted. "We said good-bye before…before he beamed out…"

Faizah's face contorted into pain, and her eyes met Mbaruku's, equally horrified. At any time, under any circumstances, could he have been able to say good-bye to Faizah forever? No. He could not imagine what his Nyota had been prepared to lose in the line of duty.

"He was going to die…!" Nyota cried out. "I was so scared, I was so scared…"

Nyota's body shuddered again in his arms as she relived the memories of the battle. She and her crewmates had all performed their duties extraordinarily, sublimating their fears as they fought for Earth, their ship, and their lives. Nyota's cries released more of her fears, sharing the terror of those moments that she, Mbaruku guessed, had never shared with anyone else.

At this point, Mbaruku would have done anything to pull back every comment, every stare that had challenged Spock and threatened Nyota's confidence in her parents' love and support. He thought that he had been protecting her. Maybe he had, but that "protection" had come with a price.

Mbaruku lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Spock survived. He saved all of us. He is a good and decent man," Mbaruku stated, believing it emotionally as well as intellectually for the first time. "He makes you happy, Baby Girl?"

"Yes…" 

Mbaruku feared Nyota might faint with the depth of sincerity she put into that single affirmation. Rarely had one word been filled with so many layers. Spock _was_ the love of Nyota's life. There was only one thing left for him to say.

"Then we welcome him to our family."

Mbaruku had hoped that this statement of acceptance would finish calming her. Evidently he miscalculated. The tears rolled down Nyota's cheeks in torrents, though this time she did not sob. She simply held on while Faizah smoothed the wet and matted wisps of hair from their daughter's face and dabbed away the salty trails of moisture before joining Nyota and Mbaruku in their embrace. No more words were needed as the three Uhuras renewed their connection to one another.

A gentle breeze blew quietly through the garden and enveloped the family. Set upon the currents of air were the peaceful notes of a ka'athyra.

 


	7. Spectrum

Mbaruku fanned his drenched shirt as Faizah led Nyota to a chair.

After dabbing more tears from her eyes, Nyota looked up at him in disbelief, then embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Baba." Faizah conjured yet another tissue from somewhere to replace the saturated one Nyota still held.

His heart swelled. He really did not mind. "Ah, Baby Girl…it's all part of my job. This will dry. Feeling better?"

"I think so." She sat, defeated. "Sorry, I don't know what happened."

Faizah handed her yet another tissue, then combed more stray hairs from Nyota's face back into place. "What was it that Spock said? _Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim_?"

Mbaruku's eyes went heavenwards as Faizah recited her new favorite phrase. His wife grabbed hold of and obsessed whenever she discovered a new favorite anything. He had to admit that the phrase now rolled off Faizah's tongue as if she had been saying it all her life.

Faizah shrugged, silently asking his indulgence as she continued to comfort Nyota. "And what else might a Vulcan say? Maybe that 'The cause _was_ sufficient'? Do not be so hard on yourself. You have been through too much lately. Of course you had to let it out. Even 'mighty Starfleet officers' need their parents sometimes, yes?"

Nyota rolled her eyes, but her attempt at elevating herself above her personal fray of emotions was ruined by a sudden hiccup, some sniffles, and a snort as she hovered between laughter and tears.

Even in his sympathy, Mbaruku could not help laughing, nor could Faizah.

"Baba! Mama!" Nyota protested, sniffling between syllables, but trying hard not to laugh herself through more tears of emotional release. "What happened to my support system here?"

"We are always here, my girl," Faizah assured. "You cannot doubt that, can you?"

Nyota only responded by staring at them, one incredulous eyebrow up.

"Hmmm, she is giving us the 'Vulcan eyebrow'…what do you think?" Faizah said conversationally to Mbaruku.

"I think you're right," Mbaruku replied, hoping to lighten Nyota's mood. "Where did she get that from…?"

Nyota guffawed. Mbaruku sighed, momentary relieved. It was like old times.

"Speaking of Vulcans or, should I say, a Vulcan…," Faizah began. "Nyota, I like him."

Nyota's face lit up. "Honestly?"

"Yes, I do," Faizah nodded. "Very much. Your father is already sick of me telling him what a nice young man I think he is. And he has a green thumb in the garden!"

Faizah stopped suddenly. Nyota eyebrows flew up in surprise. Mbaruku noted to himself that Spock did have somewhat of a greenish cast to his skin—the other two apparently shared his thought. Suddenly the three broke out laughing, even if it was a stupid thought.

"You know what I mean!" Faizah protested. "What I am saying is that he can help me anytime. It would be nice to have someone else in this family who knows how to prune and weed properly. I could use the help!"

"Be careful, Nyota," Mbaruku cautioned. "Once your mother puts him to work, you may never see him again."

Nyota's swollen eyes brightened more. "Don't worry, I won't let that happen!"

Faizah breathed out an exaggerated sigh. "There go my hopes of competent help."

"Mama…I'd be happy to help," Nyota joked, still talking with difficulty after her crying had congested her head.

His poor girl was a mess, Mbaruku noted, but she was still beautiful. Even as upset as she was, he was happy that she maintained her sense of humor.

Faizah laughed and leaned down to hug Nyota one more time before returning to her spot on the bench. Mbaruku returned to his own chair, amused, thinking that Faizah might follow Lady Amanda's example after all by locking up her gardening tools before Nyota could implement any of her "help."

"No, you just rest during this visit home," Faizah encouraged sweetly. "Or if you are bored, you can update our communications station. Neither of us have had a chance to take care of that yet, although it was on your father's list of things to do before you arrived."

"Your mother's household lists require a team of specialists," Mbaruku defended. "I am but one man…"

Faizah imitated the Vulcan Eyebrow Maneuver herself, combining it with a modified Glare of Death.

"Stop!" Nyota laughed. "I'll be happy to take care of the comm system."

Mbaruku favored her with a short, decisive nod of approval. "You are a good and dutiful daughter, Nyota."

"Thank you, Baba."

Suddenly Faizah's head perked up. "Sh! Listen!"

Mbaruku and Nyota turned their heads, trying to discern what had caught Faizah's attention.

"Music…," Faizah said. "I thought I heard it earlier."

A few airy notes made their way to Mbaruku's ears. The Uhuras rarely heard anything beyond their own walls in their peaceful neighborhood. He craned his neck and adjusted his position trying to hear better. "Where is that coming from?"

"It's Spock," Nyota said. "He's playing his ka'athyra. It helps him relax."

A few more seconds went by. "It's beautiful," Faizah said.

Mbaruku, his attention now focused completely on the strangely beautiful alien melody, had to agree. The lower tones were deep, sad, slow. Occasionally a spray of higher-pitched notes answered the lower ones, softly fading away and disappearing. Yet the lower ones continued, persisting, a bass note constant under all the others, which wove in and out of the composition. Finally the song ended with one lone deep whole note, lingering until, despondently, it, too, faded away.

Nyota's eyes again filled with tears that fell into her lap. She made no effort to wipe them away.

From her reaction, Mbaruku reasoned that the work had significance. "Nyota, what was that song?"

She tried to draw herself up though the tears continued to fall. "It's called _Separated_. It's hard to explain what 'separation' in this sense means to a Vulcan. The closest translation would be 'leaving a piece of yourself behind' in a spiritual sense, or being cut off. But that doesn't even begin to cover it." Her voice began to break again. "Non-telepaths can't understand the deeper connections, the kind of bonds that are broken…or the emptiness left behind. It's very traumatic."

Now Faizah's eyes filled with concern. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know. He's still trying to work some things out."

Losing a world, grieving a lost mother…. All the preconceptions and beliefs that Mbaruku ever had about Vulcans, all the things he thought he knew, became suspect as he considered the young man in the upstairs room. The comments about cold and reserved Vulcans reinforced by rumor and common belief throughout Mbaruku's life…why had he never questioned them?

Certainly the cultural expressions of dealing with concerns and interests were different between Vulcans and humans in general. That was a given. Now his short acquaintanceship with Spock was chipping away at the Vulcan stereotypes that had engrained themselves in Mbaruku's mind. Why had he ever believed that Vulcans lived empty lives? Clearly they were born, they lived, and they died, and like humans, their lives were filled with a plethora of events and challenges. Because they had outwardly dealt with their responses within a strict framework of logic and emotional restraint, it was easy for humans to make assumptions about what was or was not important from a Vulcan's perspective. Mbaruku had seen examples of Vulcan art and heard Vulcan music before, and he was ashamed to have dismissed the idea that there were Vulcan individuals behind their unique expressions.

From his limited interactions with Spock, he was beginning to understand that their existences were not sterile, lived within black and white. The ka'athyra had told a different story, and the phrases relegating Vulcans to computer-like automatons that haunted his memories seemed like obscenities to him now. Vulcan formality may have masked the spectrum of a complex, fascinating people, but Mbaruku's own assumptions had concealed it.

Within Spock's music was the soul of a being who was searching for equanimity. Each pluck and strum of a string told of Spock's attempt to deal with his losses, mourn them, acknowledge them. It was a window into the depth of a heart that was not the same as Mbaruku's, but it was there, sure as Mbaruku's own.

Another slow, deep-toned composition began, this one without the answer of lighter sequences of notes. It was darker, sadder, bleaker. After several bars, suddenly it stopped, abandoned after a discordant, frustrated spray of notes. The ensuing silence spoke to Mbaruku as much as the music had.

Nyota shook her head before resting her face in her hands. Faizah brow knitted in distress at Mbaruku before she turned to their daughter. "Come. Let us go inside," she whispered. "It's been a difficult morning. We will go to your room. You can lie down for a while. I think we all could use a nap."

Obviously wrung out, Nyota nodded as she got up. Mbaruku gave her a hug and spoke quietly. "Is there anything we can do that would help?"

Nyota shook her head sadly. "He needs peace and rest. Be kind to him."

"We will do our best. And for you?"

More tears welled. "Mama's right. I need to decompress."

He gave her one more hug. "Rest well, Baby Girl."

"Thank you, Baba…"

Mbaruku watched sadly as Faizah put her arm around Nyota to guide her up the pathway toward the house.

Alone with his own thoughts, Mbaruku decided to take Faizah's suggestion. He needed to lie down, "decompress," and reflect on the events of the last 24 hours, his fears of the past two weeks, and the young man Nyota had brought into their lives. After Faizah's tossing and turning, he had not slept well the night before anyway.

He walked the path through Faizah's garden. Faizah had applied her architectural expertise to lay out her garden into a series of outdoor "rooms," creating pleasing living environments. Some were more open, others more hidden, each had a purpose. Some spaces invited social interaction, like the patio, complete with comfortable chairs and low tables along the wall and by the fountain where Faizah's roses grew. Others, tucked within various bushes and smaller trees, were for quiet contemplation. A few whimsical nooks provided visual amusement with their bold splashes of colors or textures.

Then there were the more hidden rooms behind trellises and vines, places to escape the heat and observation, like under the small pergola behind three vine-covered trellises from which Mbaruku's hammock hung. In the comforting shade, he lay down, quieting his mind as he drifted into his nap.

**-o0o-**

Mbaruku awoke to quiet murmuring. By the sun's traverse across the sky, he guessed that he slept for about two hours, maybe three. Coming to fuller consciousness, he noticed that he was no longer alone.

" _Ha, Spokh…nenikau'etek Komekh eh Samekh."_

Nyota's voice, down the path a bit, just on the other side of the trellis…

_"Gishu ri."_

Deep, quiet tones…Spock was with her.

Mbaruku, not wishing to disturb them on their walk by, decided to lie still, hidden in the dark shade behind the vines. He opened one eye very slightly, afraid that even the movement of his eyelid would alert Spock's Vulcan hearing to his presence. That concern might have been exaggerated, but because of all he read about superior Vulcan senses during the past two weeks, he decided to play it safe anyway.

The problem was, instead of continuing along the pathway, Nyota and Spock stopped just on the other side of the trellis.

" _Vesht gish nash-veh akarshif fa'punar,"_ Nyota said, stepping closer to Spock. _"Vesht fai-tor nash-veh, dungi ki' nenikau'etek au po'latva k'du."_ Now she was against him, reaching her hands to cradle each side of his face. _"Dva-tor tu ri, ha?"_

Now Mbaruku chided himself for not making his presence known. He should. It was the right thing to do, but he did not. He wanted to look away, but he could not. Curiosity kept his attention glued to the young pair.

He did not understand Vulcan—the language he was sure that they were using—so, technically, he was not eavesdropping, was he? Still, there was a breach of privacy happening here, but now he was stuck. What could he do without making Nyota and Spock suspicious of his motives? He could pretend that he had been sleeping—well, that part was true, up to a point. However, he had passed that point. As Nyota pressed closer, the opportunity to reveal himself lessened as the situation became more awkward. Why was he being such a coward?

Nyota's voice brightened. _"Ashayam, mau tishau ko-veh Mama du. Eh Baba dorli. Dungi-tishau sa-veh lu du weh-paresh-tor sa-veh du. I'korsau sa-veh. Rubah rihagik."_

A couple familiar words caught his ear. "Mama"? "Baba"? In that string of vocal mush, Mbaruku picked out those familiar words! Nyota was talking about him! Well, maybe she was talking about Faizah, too, but what was she saying? Funny how his moral compass pointed southward the minute Nyota made him a topic. Mbaruku still kicked himself for compromising his own principles, but now he _had_ to watch. Rationalizing, he decided he would save them all some embarrassment if he remained hidden.

Then, at Nyota's next movement, he decided that he was wrong. She reached for Spock's temple and lightly caressed it. Spock's face relaxed slightly as he tilted his head to look at her, then closed his eyes as he leaned forward and down to touch his forehead to hers. As their foreheads touched, Nyota hands moved down from Spock's neck to his shoulders, then travelled down his arms before she wrapped her own arms firmly around his waist. Spock's hands came up to rest on the sides of her shoulders for moment, then he drew her in closer sliding one hand between her shoulder blades, the other to the small of her back. Nyota exhaled contentedly.

 _Oh, no…nonononononono!_ Mbaruku thought, frantic in paternal horror, yet frozen in place by propriety. _Please, Lord, let them stop_ , he prayed. _Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop!_ As much as he did not want to see this, he could not look away. Controlling his breathing was becoming more difficult, but if he did not, he would be caught, and the Uhura women would make him pay, no matter how much he tried to explain his best intentions. He did not want to think about what an aggrieved Vulcan might do.

Meanwhile, Nyota nestled deeper into Spock's chest. " _Spokh, dungi ish-veh tek'ik tok-ti. Ashau nash-veh du…"_

Her voice was warm, reassuring. Thankfully Spock's eyes remained closed, and he made no other moves on Nyota's person that increased Mbaruku's embarrassment or raised his protective hackles. He almost breathed a sigh of relief—almost.

When Mbaruku peeked again a few seconds later, he almost gasped. What he now saw on Spock face shocked him: vulnerability, pain, the need for comfort. It was unnatural, an expression he never expected to see on a Vulcan, one that Spock probably had never shown to anyone but Nyota, and here Mbaruku was, witness to Spock's private pain. When Spock again opened his eyes, even through their anguish, Mbaruku saw Nyota's love reciprocated.

As Nyota and Spock's foreheads parted, Nyota stood on her toes and kissed him briefly on the lips, then on each cheek before burying her head against his chest again. Spock tilted his head to rest upon hers, his chin nestled in her hair looking for all the world as if he had found his soulmate.

The intimacy of this moment touched Mbaruku in a way he could not explain. It was as beautiful as any he had shared with Faizah throughout their happy marriage. It was scary, as it involved his daughter and an alien. But in their gentle embrace there was love or at least something close to it. Whatever Nyota gave to Spock, he was returning it just as intensely. Mbaruku's previous observations were correct. There was little chance this pair would separate. Mentally and physically, they were matched, bound to each other.

Seeing this side of Spock confirmed to Mbaruku that he understood little about Spock The Individual at all. Still waters ran very deep with this man, which left much to be explored if Mbaruku could dive in far enough to get to know the younger—his "son-in-law-to-be."

He would have to be careful, though. Spock might shut himself off if Mbaruku came on too strong or forced anything. It was up to him, with Faizah's help, to break the dam. Spock was too wounded to initiate anything, and Nyota was too busy being his support.

He needed a plan, but first he needed more research into Vulcan customs. Unfortunately, Spock and Nyota remained on the other side, still standing close. Mbaruku wanted to get out of there, hoping that the younger pair wouldn't initiate anything more physical and—horrors!—that he might actually see that, too! He had already seen quite enough.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Nyota stepped out of Spock's embrace. _"Ashayam, dungi-im'roi etek, ha? Kup-glu-vau tu bah-ker wilat vesht ar'kada dular du'asal, Mama eh du, hmm?"_

Spock nodded, following Nyota farther down the path. Once the two were out of range, Mbaruku hurried to his feet and made his way as quietly and quickly to the house as he could, leaving the garden entirely to the younger pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not translate what Nyota and Spock were saying in the garden within the chapter, as this tale is from Mbaruku's point of view, and he doesn't speak Vulcan! But, I know some of you would go crazy not understanding what Nyota and Spock were saying, so at the end of this note are the translations. My apologies to any Vulcan grammarians who happen to be reading this. I tried my best. Really, I did…!
> 
> Special acknowledgment goes to Selek, the force behind the Vulcan Language Dictionary, for his collection of words as well as Mark R. Gardner ( _The Vulcan Language_ ), whose tables of verb conjugations and tenses and information on syntax and speech patterns were essential to my translations. Thanks (as always) to T'Soy, who recommended Gardner's work and has also kept me from straying from the essence of this tale.
> 
> Translation Key:
> 
> * Translation into Vulcan via Aashlee-ese…  
>  *** What I intended them to communicate…**  
>  * [More literal translation from Vulcan to English…]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Ha, Spokh…nenikau'etek Komekh eh Samekh.__  
>  **Yes, Spock, they support us.**  
>  [Yes, Spock, (they) accept us—Mother and Father.]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Gishu ri.__  
>  **That is unexpected.**  
>  [Expected not.]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Vesht gish nash-veh akarshif fa'punar. Vesht fai-tor nash-veh, dungi ki' nenikau'etek au po'latva k'du. Dva-tor tu ri, ha?__  
>  **I expected it would take longer, but I knew that they would support us after getting to know you. You do not believe me?**  
>  [I expected long time before acceptance. I knew (they would) support us after (the) meeting with you. Believe you not, yes?]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Ashayam, mau tishau ko-veh Mama du. Eh Baba dorli. Dungi-tishau sa-veh lu du weh-paresh-tor sa-veh du. I'korsau sa-veh. Rubah rihagik.__  
>  **Beloved, Mama said that she really likes you. And Baba is a fair man. He will, too, when he knows you better. He is being a protective father now. This change is difficult for him.**  
>  [Beloved, much likes Mama you. And Baba (is) honorable. He will like you after he more knows you. Now he preserves (protects). Change (is) difficult.]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Spokh, dungi ish-veh tek'ik tok-ti. Ashau nash-veh du…__  
>  **Spock, it will be all right. I love you…**  
>  [Spock, (the) affairs (situation/status, not romance) will be satisfactory. I love you…]
> 
> _-o0o-_
> 
> __Ashayam, dungi-im'roi etek, ha? Kup-glu-vau tu bah-ker wilat vesht ar'kada dular du'asal, Mama eh du, hmm?__  
>  **Beloved, shall we walk? You can show me what you and Mama worked on this morning, hmm?**  
>  [Beloved, shall we walk, yes? Show (the) garden where you (plural) worked during morning, Mama and you, hmm?]


	8. Water & Nourishment

Mbaruku escaped from the garden undetected. Upon entering the house, he looked for Faizah. Hearing the clinking of dishware in the kitchen, he made his way there. Several bowls of chopped fruit sat to the side of her, a cutting board and knife immediately in front.

"Oh, there you are, Mbaru. Sleep well?" Faizah held up a piece of fruit. "Are you hungry?"

Mbaruku, like everyone else, had napped through the lunch hour, and his salivary glands answered Faizah's question before his brain did. Gratefully, he took the proffered melon slice. Faizah selected an orange and began peeling it.

"Thank you. I did not know that I was so hungry," he said after his first bite. "I would not have lasted until supper otherwise."

Faizah finished peeling, then separated the fruit into sections. "Nyota and Spock are in the garden. Did you see them?"

"Uh, no…," he lied. "I was sleeping in the hammock. I just woke up."

Faizah deposited the sections into the bowl, then reached for a pan of flat bread, which she began to slice into smaller pieces. "Hmm, they might be along the north wall, out in the sun. Nyota says that he likes the sun and the heat. It will probably do him some good."

That would not be the only "good" that Spock was getting out in the garden, Mbaruku thought, uncomfortably noting the kisses he witnessed. _Stop…!_ The father-warrior invaded his thoughts unexpectedly. Time to put the father-warrior back in his place and change the subject….

"Faizah, you were correct before. I must know Spock better, but I am finding it difficult to begin that process."

"He may be having the same difficulty with you."

"Understandable. So I have been asking myself, how does one begin to know another? How do humans begin that kind of interaction? How do humans, Vulcans, anyone?" He was thinking aloud and, as he had many times, used Faizah as a sounding board.

Faizah set down her knife and gave him her attention. "Continue."

Good, she was ready to listen to Mbaruku's premise. "Most societies have rituals for creating conducive meetings, do they not?" he asked. "Some are formal and intricate, such as the protocols and introductions one undergoes when meeting high-level leaders or strangers. Others are less formal, such as when we wave to our friends upon seeing them. Behind these rituals is the idea that each party communicates expectations, its status in relation to the other, and, thus, each party understands how to deal with the other."

"True," Faizah agreed. "You believe that we need a ritual?"

"A ritual, ideally something from Vulcan culture that would put him more at ease or make him more receptive so that he and I can 'start over,' as it were."

Faizah tilted her head. "You told Nyota that we will welcome him as family. Find a ritual that does that."

Mbaruku raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't want to be overly solicitous. We might scare him off."

"I don't think so. At this moment, Spock does not know his status with us. He doesn't even know where he, as a Vulcan, belongs right now. Without their world, they are all lost. The most valuable thing we can do is to tell him where his place is here. The more directly we communicate that, the less he has to guess, postulate, 'consider the myriad variables in confusing human relationships,'" Faizah said, reciting that last phrase with a Vulcan's lack of inflection.

Faizah had good points, as usual.

She continued. "He is not the only one who needs that message. Yes, we have told Nyota that we welcome him, but she needs to see it for herself. Then she will relax, too. If she no longer has to protect Spock from you, she will help you know him."

Another good point, even with the jab at his protectiveness. "I had not thought of that."

His wife looked at him, trying to see deeper. "Can you do this? This morning you were not pleased, and you had doubts. What has changed for you?"

"I promised Nyota," he said. "She loves him, and he is part of our lives now. That will not change."

"And after their story, you now see something more in him," she stated, somehow sensing his inner thoughts as she always had.

Knowing the history Nyota and Spock's relationship was part of it, true. What Mbaruku had witnessed in the garden, Spock's hidden personality and the connection he had to Nyota, had intrigued Mbaruku more and in many ways had revealed Spock in a new light. "It is as you say: He is not what I expected.'"

Faizah's eyes drilled into him, again as if she could read his every thought, but she let it go. "So, how do Vulcans say 'Welcome to the family'?"

"There were several rituals of welcome in the Vulcan cultural database," Mbaruku said. "I think I can find one that will be appropriate."

**-o0o-**

His research successful, armed with information, Mbaruku returned to the kitchen. He found and filled their fanciest pitcher with water, found their best crystal goblets, explained the chosen ritual to Faizah, and the two of them rehearsed.

He had not seen Spock since the younger couple had told their story and Nyota had sought his verdict on the matter. He had given her his blessing. His next meeting with the younger man was an opportune time to implement this common Vulcan custom and impart his blessing to Spock as well.

Fortunately the ritual they would attempt—one of the older and common Vulcan traditions—was simple, not overtly solicitous, which eased many of Mbaruku's concerns. Now all they had to do was wait for Nyota and Spock to return to the house.

Although he had chosen this course, now with this formal acknowledgment upon him, a wave of doubt passed through Mbaruku. "Faizah, before we do this, can we be sure about Nyota and Spock?"

Instead of becoming angry or agitated, Faizah sighed. "We cannot be absolutely sure about anything, Mbaru. But I have often said, 'Uncommon situations offer uncommon opportunities.'"

It was a phrase Faizah often used to motivate her employees years ago.

"It is true in business, and it is true in life," she assured. "Of course there will be misunderstandings, and we will stumble. But if our minds and our hearts are all in the right place, we may discover that we are the ones who reap the greater rewards. We will have a happy daughter and another good man in our family."

"Even so, making obvious choices often requires courage," he observed. "And I do not feel especially brave right now."

"Awww, Mbaru, you are braver than you realize."

Mbaruku smiled. "You are a good and dutiful wife, Faizah."

Faizah laughed. "At least you realize that!"

Mbaruku looked skyward as if begging Heaven for some kind of consolation.

"Speaking of 'good and dutiful,'" Faizah started, "Nyota was eager to fix the communications station. I think that she will need things to do. Spock, too. They are not used to sitting around. Having something to do would help get their minds off of the things that are bothering them. Spock seemed to enjoy the gardening."

Mbaruku smiled. "Well, then, I have a whole list of things they could do."

Faizah did not look happy at her husband's attempt to pawn off her to-do list. "Mbaru, do not think for one moment that—!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Mbaruku held one hand up in protest. "If you can put Spock to work in the garden, then he can help me as well! If I can get his focus on the work, it may make conversation easier. Besides, Vulcans are strong," he joked. "I could use his help."

"Perhaps," Faizah conceded. "I'll see what Nyota wants to do. Or maybe we can take a walk. It will be good to spend that time with her. She probably needs to talk out a few things, poor girl."

Faizah noticed movement outside. "They're coming!"

Mbaruku beckoned her toward the formal dining room. "Let's go."

They heard the door open and close.

"Mama?" Nyota called.

"In here," Faizah answered, now in place next to her husband.

Mbaruku heard two sets of footsteps approach before Nyota and Spock emerged through the door. They stopped suddenly at the sight of Mbaruku, standing up straight with a silver pitcher in his hands. Faizah held a glass goblet and a plate of fruit.

"Come in," Faizah invited.

Nyota's eyes widened as she and Spock took a couple more steps forward. Mbaruku could see the moment when she understood what her parents were about to do. Spock's own eyes took in the scene before him. Judging by the intensity with which Spock's eyes darted between people and objects, his mind was actively assessing, trying to reconcile what he saw with what he knew about human customs.

Mbaruku stepped forward. "Spock, your journey has been long. Please accept this water to refresh you, this food to sustain you, and the comforts of this home to restore you. This haven and our service are yours."

Mbaruku took some satisfaction from Spock's careful lack of expression because Spock clearly was working to keep any reaction hidden. But then, how would he have anticipated this interpretation—any interpretation—of the Vulcan ritual for welcoming family members into a home? With it, Mbaruku and Faizah were offering their acceptance and protection. As long as Spock was under this roof, they promised Spock that he would be treated as family.

Spock tilted his head slightly to one side, his mind still on overdrive, then glanced at Nyota. Nyota nodded, smiling encouragement and assurance.

Spock returned his eyes to Mbaruku, still some question in them. He glanced between Mbaruku and Faizah, trying again to read them.

Faizah's face was beaming with a wide smile. She did not try to adopt the Vulcan neutral face that Mbaruku was attempting. Mbaruku continued to stand tall, waiting for an answer.

Finally, Spock straightened. "I will endeavor to be worthy of thy gifts and protection," Spock offered the ritual response with a respectful nod. "I will defend thy home and preserve thy family's honor."

**-o0o-**

Although they had begun with a Vulcan ritual, they relaxed Vulcan custom and chatted during the small meal. Truthfully, Nyota and Faizah did most of the talking with Mbaruku throwing in a few comments here and there. Mbaruku noted, with some amusement and satisfaction, that Spock remained quiet, still reflecting on the small ceremony. It was understandable, however. He had just been accepted into Nyota's Terran family with a Vulcan ceremony when, mostly likely, he had not expected to be accepted at all.

Nyota had patted his forearm gently afterward while Faizah and Mbaruku had gone to the kitchen to bring the meal to the table. Mbaruku overheard her say, "See? I told you, _Ashayam_ …"

Since then, Nyota had been joyful, exuberant even. Finally Spock looked slightly more at peace. At breakfast he had taken modest helpings. This time his plate was fuller—mangoes seemed to be a favorite.

"Nyota, were you serious about looking at the comm system?" Faizah asked.

"Yes, I can get right to it after we eat," she replied.

"Good. It seems to have a delay in connecting, and we can't figure out why. It's not the service provider; we've checked," Faizah said. "Mbaru…"

As agreed, she was leading Mbaruku into his role for this conversation.

"…That stone on the pathway, the one that heaved…," she said, waving her fork over her shoulder in the direction of the garden outside. "Someone is going to trip over it if you don't re-set it. You were supposed to do that before Nyota and Spock arrived. If either one of them gets hurt…"

Mbaruku nodded, playing his part. "Yes, it should be done right away, but it is so heavy. Surely I will break my back if I try to move it myself."

"Do you require assistance?" Spock asked.

Hmm, Spock's quick offer was unexpected. Mbaruku thought that he would have to draw out the conversation longer or even drop a few more hints, but Spock, apparently, was a helpful soul. His eyes had widened, maybe indicating interest. _He has a good work ethic_ , Mbaruku noted.

Playing his role in the keep-them-busy plan, Mbaruku nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. I could use any help I can get, most definitely from a strong Starfleet officer like yourself, Spock," he laughed, noting a flicker of surprise cross the younger's features at the use of his name _sans_ title. "While Nyota is working with the comm system, we can go outside and take care of the stone before my wife becomes angrier with me. Do you need work clothes? It's dirty work…"

"It is expected in labors of this kind," Spock stated.

Mbaruku joked to himself, wondering if Spock even knew how to get dirty. Even after helping Faizah in the garden, he had emerged immaculately groomed, not a noticeable trace of dirt on his clothing or under his nails. "Ah, then, there are a few stone benches that Faizah wanted me to move, too. While we are out there…"

"Baba!" Nyota gave her father a mischievous glare, teasing. "Don't wear him out!"

Mbaruku drew himself up into his most fatherly pose. "Nyota, my eldest daughter…," he started.

Nyota and Faizah both looked heavenward as if to say, "Here it comes."

"…if Spock is going to remain among us, he will have to get used to being part of the family, and being part of this family includes fulfilling your mother's lists!"

"Mbaru!" Faizah glared, but it was not very effective when she was trying to repress her own laughter.

Nyota bent over, resting her forehead on the table, her own shoulders shaking as she laughed. "I don't believe this."

Spock tilted his head, eyeing the three humans in turn.

"Spock, don't listen to him," Faizah urged. "Don't do anything you don't want to. He's trying to get you to do his work."

"It is of no concern," said Spock in that patient cadence that only Vulcans could master. "My father learned that it was wise to accede to Mother's directives, quickly and efficiently. It may be wise to do so here as well."

"Aha! Aha!" Mbaruku clapped his hands together in glee. "It is the same everywhere!"

"Indeed," Spock affirmed, glancing at Nyota with a glint in his eye.

Nyota and Faizah's mouths dropped open in disbelief.

Mbaruku recognized the need for a quick exit before his dear wife and darling daughter recovered. "Come, Spock, we have things to do. Let's get them done." He got up abruptly, and Spock followed without hesitation. Did Spock realize that the risk of retribution from the Uhura women had just increased sevenfold?

"Well, would you listen to that…," Mbaruku heard Faizah say just before he and Spock made it outside and out of range.

Uh, make that tenfold.

Mbaruku was not sure, but he swore that a brief glimmer of smugness crossed Spock's features. So much for the the quiet, logical Vulcan scientist and officer. Spock's humor had a wicked streak to it. Had he picked that up from Nyota, or was that simply a part of the young man's personality?

No doubt that getting to know Spock The Individual was going to be an interesting experience.


	9. Bonding

The late afternoon sun still had plenty of heat as Spock and Mbaruku walked into the garden, warmth that Mbaruku figured that Spock would welcome. At least one of them would be comfortable, he mused, as he wiped the moisture from his brow. Mbaruku stopped at a small gardening shed and pulled out a few tools, a couple work aprons, and some work gloves. He divided them and handed a set to his volunteer assistant.

"Spock," he started, making conversation, "you understand that we have incited retaliation from Nyota and Faizah, right?"

"Retaliation, Sir?" the young man asked innocently.

Beneath the naïveté that Spock purposefully projected—he obviously was doing so—was an undercurrent of calculation. Mbaruku suspected that Spock knew exactly what he was talking about, and it intrigued him. Nyota was like her mother. If Spock had teased her before, Nyota would not hold back. His own nearly three decades of experience with Faizah and their daughters had demonstrated that conclusively.

"You don't believe that Nyota is going to let your comment just slide by, do you?" he challenged.

"It was merely an observation," Spock replied, emulating every calm, cool Vulcan analyst Mbaruku had ever met.

Mbaruku laughed. So, what was this? Spock was not backing down. Was he picking a playful fight? Mbaruku took satisfaction that Nyota had found a worthy challenger in the eternal Battle of the Sexes, at least the one between men and women. Spock won more of Mbaruku's respect.

"Some 'observations' are more welcome than others," Mbaruku threw back, his own eyebrows rising, "…if you understand my meaning."

Spock straightened, the exaggerated Vulcan display of patience firmly in place. "It would be illogical to distort the truth of the matter."

Mbaruku grinned. "True, but I am not sure that Nyota will see the logic of that."

"Nyota is logical 97.6457 percent of the time," Spock stated authoritatively. "The chances of a 'retaliation' are low."

Mbaruku laughed again, enjoying this repartee while wondering how Spock had come up with that figure. "I would not bet on that. As you will learn, it's that illogical 2.3543 percent that we have to worry about."

An eyebrow went up. Spock's voice returned to that innocent quality. "Understood. Father also observed that mitigation of negative outcomes directly correlates to successful progress in domestic undertakings. Might I suggest that course of action?"

After translating that mouthful in his head, Mbaruku laughed again. Again, Faizah was right; his Terran family and Spock's family on Vulcan had been alike in many ways. Completing these tasks always put Faizah in a better mood, as it apparently had with Lady Amanda.

Mbaruku picked up his tools. "I would like to meet your father. I think I could learn a few things from him."

Briefly, a warmth flickered through Spock's eyes as the younger nodded. "That can be arranged."

"I look forward to it," Mbaruku replied, inwardly surprised at the degree to which he did. "In the meantime, we better take your father's advice and start 'mitigating,' as it were."

"Yes, Sir."

As they walked to their work site, he marveled at his situation. In less than 24 hours, how he had gone from wanting to throttle Spock—the alien male threat to his Nyota—to relaxing his own guard and joking with him? The person walking beside him was not the impenetrable officer he had seen on the newsvids, nor was he the striking, but distant instructor he had met at Nyota's graduation ceremony. In this household setting as Nyota's boyfriend, he was someone else—a someone who was, among other things, funny, which still caught Mbaruku off guard. The subtle humor, which somehow managed to have an edge to it, intrigued him. Despite the young man's inherent formality and reserve, Mbaruku was beginning to find Spock personally engaging as he learned to read the younger's slight expressions and restrained physical cues.

A few more steps down the pathway, they came to the uneven, errant stone.

"Here we are. This one, this heave—about two centimeters, I would estimate. The way Faizah went on and on about it, you would think that it was a cliff," Mbaruku joked.

Spock tilted his head forward, giving the impression that this was a Vulcan shrug, but he said nothing, awaiting instruction.

Mbaruku stuck the tip of his shovel under one side of the 6-centimeter-thick stone, which was about a meter long and half a meter wide, then pushed down on the handle, levering the stone up. "Can you grab the sides? Will you be able to lift that out of the way?"

"Yes."

Mbaruku knew that Vulcans had superior strength. Nevertheless, what Mbaruku saw next astounded him. Spock easily lifted the wide, flat stone, holding it out away from his own body to avoid contact with the dirt and organic matter that clung to its underside, then gently set it aside at the base of a tree. If there was any strain involved, Mbaruku could not detect it.

"Spock, I am impressed. If I had tried to move that stone as you just did, I do not doubt that I would have injured myself."

"There is honor in service," Spock replied with a slight bow of his head.

"Yes, I agree," Mbaruku laughed. "And when it saves me from serious pain, even more so."

Spock said nothing; he merely stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back. Mbaruku detected little change in expression, still he got the impression that the younger was amused.

They continued their work, leveling the soil before returning the stone into its proper setting and orientation before progressing down Faizah's list. For the next couple hours, they moved benches, remounted trellises that had come loose, and fixed a leak in one of the watering units.

Spock turned out to be a pleasant working companion. He took Mbaruku's direction well, yet offered suggestions respectfully when an opportunity for improvement arose. As they completed their tasks, Mbaruku could not help comparing Spock to other young men who his daughters—well, mostly Aisha—had brought home. He thought back to several arrogant boys who had displayed an annoying bravado. Fortunately, neither of his daughters had any patience for that type, and he only had to endure one, maybe two visits at most from these individuals.

Other suitors had tried to charm their way into Mbaruku's favor, probably in hopes of charming favors from Nyota and Aisha in turn or getting Mbaruku to relax his paternal vigilance. What these would-be Romeos thought was clever conversation, Mbaruku found disingenuous and tiresome. Maybe it was a lack of maturity, or maybe, as the father-warrior had thought at the time, they were simply out to satisfy an adolescent hormone-induced lust. No matter. Through a little good, old-fashioned intimidation, the father-warrior in Mbaruku had ensured that his girls were protected from the onslaught of their prurient overtures and foolishness. Ah, those were interesting times, and Mbaruku remembered them with satisfaction.

In the man before him, Mbaruku sensed no duplicity, no hidden agenda. Spock simply remained helpful, quietly holding up the other end of a board, providing the third hand when the two Mbaruku had were insufficient, or providing the strength needed to move yet another bench or boulder. He said no more than was necessary, and in some ways Mbaruku found that refreshing. He, himself, was more of a thinker than a talker, happy to keep himself company with his own thoughts. However, if he wanted to get to know the younger better, he needed to make some more conversation.

Skimming detritus from the fountains and small koi pond required little concentration, so Mbaruku took advantage of the opportunity.

"Spock, tell me about Nyota," he started. "How was she as an assistant? What did she do?"

All right, so it wasn't the smoothest entrée into meaningful discourse, but Vulcans were not known for small talk. Straight to the point—that was best.

"Nyota assisted with grading basic assignments, monitoring the language lab, and assembling supplementary materials and aids for language modules. She provided remedial tutelage to cadets as necessary. Her performance of these duties was exemplary."

Straight to the point—well, perhaps not the best, not for the more subjective impressions Mbaruku was seeking. Spock was not going to give them up easily. Mbaruku could not fault Spock, however; his direct answer was simply Vulcan nature. Mbaruku had to take a more personal tack.

"Well, yes, I would expect that from my daughter," he said proudly. "I would expect that from any Starfleet Academy cadet. But was there anything that made her stand out? I would like hear more about her. You understand that I am a proud father, yes?"

There was a flicker of something behind Spock's eyes at his last statement, but Mbaruku could not decipher what it might be.

"A proud father…yes, Sir," Spock replied quietly, looking away briefly.

It was an acknowledgment of his statement, yet Mbaruku's instincts told him it was something more. Mbaruku worried that he had stepped over a line somewhere when the younger paused, looking at his hands for a moment before looking back up. When he did, his face was composed again.

"Nyota exhibited uncommon motivation in her studies and in performance of her duties. As my assistant, her predilection for organization and sourcing effective resources was essential to my own productivity and effectiveness. She was esteemed within the linguistics department for her own skill and enthusiasm in her studies as well as her ability to foster excellent working relationships with cadets, instructors, and administration."

Well, this was slightly better, Mbaruku thought, but it still sounded like a recitation.

However, Spock was not finished. "Perhaps most telling was that several colleagues attempted to recruit Nyota into their employ." He paused, hesitant, but then shyly admitted, "I am grateful that she remained with me."

Mbaruku's heart jumped, then warmed at Spock's honest admission at the expense of Vulcan privacy. His eyes met Spock's, and an understanding passed between the two. Mbaruku quickly commented to help lessen Spock's embarrassment.

"She never mentioned any of those opportunities to us, which says to me that she was happy where she was."

"Indeed."

Mbaruku smiled, still trying to put Spock at greater ease. "In truth, you should consider it an accomplishment."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "How so?"

"Nyota, just like her mother, is not known for her patience. Duty or not, if she was not happy, she would find a way out. She is never happy unless she is being challenged, entertained, or enlightened."

"Agreed," Spock said.

"Ah, so you have found that out?" Mbaruku laughed again.

"I have."

Mbaruku smiled to himself, pleased that Nyota challenged Spock on many levels. Anyone who wanted Nyota had to work for her, he thought, pride welling up again.

"Spock, I have a confession to make."

Spock looked back, his attention focused on Mbaruku. "Sir?"

"When I first heard about Nyota and you, I had serious reservations. I am sure that you knew that already."

Spock jaw tightened just the slightest amount. He said nothing, waiting for Mbaruku to continue.

"Well, I want you to know that most of those reservations have disappeared. Any that remain are the normal concerns that every father has with the men who court their daughters, no matter who they are. It is clear that she is happy. You obviously challenge, entertain, and enlighten her. No one else has been able to achieve all three."

Spock's jaw loosened, but now he looked confused. "Entertain?"

"Not in a theatrical sense. As you well know, my daughter thrives on study and knowledge. Her interest in linguistics goes beyond language. Being who you are, from an entirely different world, you bring new experiences, new discoveries, the opportunity to learn in many unexpected ways. It is more than enjoyment for her, it's pure delight. And you share her intellectual curiosity and drive in multiple disciplines, am I correct?"

Spock looked away for a moment, then looked back up. "Yes, Sir."

Mbaruku found some delight himself at the shyness in this hero of the Battle of Earth. His Nyota had brought him to that! Speaking of Nyota, there was one more thing to settle.

"I am glad that you share those traits. She could never be happy with someone who does not. That said, I do have an obligation as Nyota's father, as all the fathers before me have had." Mbaruku drew himself up again into fatherly mode, as dignified as he could be, holding the long handle of pond-skimmer at his side like a spear. "I now fulfill that obligation by saying this to you: If you hurt her, you will have to deal with me. I don't care if you have the entire Starfleet Armada between you and me, she is my child, and I will do anything to protect her. I am releasing her now to your care."

Mbaruku understood that Spock had probably become Nyota's protector long ago, but it did not matter as he completed this formality. "Understand that I am trusting you," he added with a hard paternal stare. "Do not breach my trust."

"Yes, Sir."

Spock's tone remained respectful. He was not going to resist Mbaruku's warning. Good. Mbaruku knew that Spock's capabilities for defending himself surpassed any threat Mbaruku could carry out. Still, the father-warrior found some satisfaction. Now, he could take this relationship-building to the next step.

"Just one more thing: It has occurred to me that someday you will be my son-in-law," he said. "Perhaps you should start calling me 'Mbaru.' All my family and friends do."

The younger man nodded, and an eyebrow rose. "Mbaru…yes, Sir," he said with the smallest glint in his eye.

Mbaruku shook his head. "Very well. Let's finish this. The sun will be down soon. Maybe Nyota and Faizah will have cooled off and it will be safe to re-enter."

Spock breathed out, almost in a sigh. "Shall I calculate the odds?"

Mbaruku guffawed. With that smugness that Mbaruku had observed earlier, Spock went back to skimming the koi pond.

 


	10. Red Shoes

Simple food and engaging conversation made a pleasant supper. Not once did Nyota or Faizah refer to the men's previous teasing. Between topics, they smirked, however, triggering Mbaruku's paranoia. Either they were planning retribution, or they were not but letting him think that they were. As there was nothing that he or his houseguest could do until something happened, he simply enjoyed the evening.

Conversation continued afterwards on the main patio. Under the glow of torchlight, they relaxed while watching the stars appear. Nyota told Faizah and Mbaruku more about the _Enterprise_ , her crewmates, and the recent difficulties of navigating the gauntlet of memorials, ceremonies, and media events as Starfleet tried to sway public opinion in favor of its reconstruction efforts.

"The horde of reporters has not crawled over the walls and through Mama's roses because Command 'leaked' our 'secret' training mission somewhere on Mars," said Nyota.

"I am glad that your real 'mission' is here," Mbaruku joked. "We're glad you could come home."

"I am, too, Baba," she laughed.

"So Command knows where everyone really went? That you and Spock are both here?"

"Well…," Nyota grinned. "Spock went to the Vulcan Embassy when Command dismissed us. They probably think he's still there."

Mbaruku looked at Nyota conspiratorially. "Interesting…how did you get Spock here without anyone finding out?"

"Sarek. He arranged a private shuttle and the rental flitter at the Nairobi shuttleport. We timed our arrival for after sunset so we could travel here in the dark."

"Nothing like having connections," Mbaruku mused. "Help from the ambassador himself, you say?"

Nyota smiled, almost giddy. "He calls me 'daughter.' He has been very kind to me."

Faizah's expression warmed. "Ah, you are family to him now…?"

"My father would protect Nyota with his life," Spock informed her quietly, speaking up for the first time in a while.

Family—the center of Vulcan culture. Conferring "daughter" status on Nyota meant Sarek had seen and accepted the permanence of Nyota and Spock's connection. With the subject of most relationships too private for discussion in polite Vulcan society, Mbaruku would have to ask Nyota the next time he was alone with her what being Sarek's "daughter" meant.

Mbaruku felt the tug at his paternal bond, discomforted by the idea that Nyota could be "daughter" to another, but pleased that Nyota was welcomed and protected.

Then another realization hit: He, Mbaruku Uhura, might now have the right to call Sarek's child "son."

Now there was a thought.

**-o0o-**

Mbaruku felt another paternal tug of concern the next morning when his "son" appeared at the breakfast table. His face lacked as much color as it had the night he arrived. More troubling, a nearly palpable aura of distress surrounded him. Something had happened.

Nyota threw a _don't-say-anything_ look at her father. Living with the Uhura women, Mbaruku had become an expert at obeying visual cues.

Neither Spock nor Nyota said anything beyond morning pleasantries as they sat. Faizah poured the tea and set out the food as if nothing was amiss. She had to know what was going on, Mbaruku concluded, otherwise she would be fussing over Spock and asking about his health. Nyota, Mbaruku, and Faizah ate a generous breakfast of eggs, grilled vegetables, and flat bread. Spock took only a small portion of flat bread with a nut butter spread and three small pieces of fruit, which he ate slowly. Upon finishing, he took nothing else.

The moment Spock and Nyota concentrated on their meals, Mbaruku's eyes met Faizah's across the table. She quickly shook her head subtly, acknowledging his concern. "Later," her eyes said. Mbaruku picked up his mug of tea and continued with his breakfast, commenting noncommittally about a neighbor's home improvement project to avoid awkward silence.

"I'm going to visit Abbi today," Nyota announced as the breakfast came to a close. "I'll be gone for a few hours."

Abbi and Nyota had been inseparable friends as children, then as adolescents. Abbi attended medical school at the university where Mbaruku taught. Mbaruku saw Abbi from time to time. She was a nice girl, now a smart and driven young lady—just like his Nyota.

"Is that wise?" Mbaruku asked. "I know Abbi will keep quiet, but what if somebody recognizes you?"

"I'm borrowing some of Mama's clothes so that I blend in."

"However…"

"Baba." Nyota's voice became serious, resolute. "I've lost too many of my friends. I need to see the friends I have left." Nyota closed her eyes tightly for a second, composing herself. "After the _Enterprise_ leaves, I don't know when I'll see Abbi again. I promise we won't leave her apartment."

"I am sure you will have a nice visit," said Faizah to diffuse the tension. "When will you be back?"

"Late afternoon." Nyota turned to Mbaruku, her eyes begging him to go along with whatever she had to say next. "Mama says that she needs some time to finish the revisions to the blueprints for her Planet Habitat project."

Planet Habitat built low-cost, low-impact housing on poorer worlds. Though retired, Faizah still enjoyed her architectural work, and the occasional Habitat project satisfied her need to design. Mbaruku had not realized that she was close to finishing her current project. Even so, it was odd that she would consider working on it while Nyota was at home visiting. Confused, he played along anyway. "Spock, are you going with her?"

"No, Sir." Spock remained quiet, subdued. "I will remain here…and rest."

Smart decision…Spock needed it. Mbaruku had heard the old saying that the eyes were the windows into the soul. In Spock's case, it was true. His facial muscles could control and hide emotional expression; Mbaruku was learning that his eyes often did not. Spock probably knew that, too, because this morning he avoided eye contact.

"I could use some quiet time, too," Mbaruku said as casually as he could. "I have a novel I've been trying to finish for two months. Maybe today is the day."

Faizah's expression conveyed approval and a promise to explain everything one they were alone.

After a meaningful look at Spock and a touch at his temple, Nyota left mid-morning, dressed inconspicuously, borrowing a head wrap and caftan from Faizah to disappear into the hometown crowd. She climbed into the flitter she and Spock had arrived in and took off. Faizah closed the door after seeing that Nyota was safely on her way.

After a polite "Pardon me," Spock sought the warm sun outside, strolling along the garden pathway. Faizah held her smile until Spock was out the door.

Mbaruku had waited long enough. "What is the story? Is he all right?"

"That poor boy," said the Mama Lioness, worry taking over her features. "He had nightmares last night, vivid ones. He would not tell Nyota anything, but she felt his terror. It woke her up."

Up to this point, the idea of sharing thoughts through a telepathic bond involving his Nyota still disquieted Mbaruku. Disquieting him further was the two-way transmission of extreme emotion. Nyota's terror at falling along a cliff had affected Spock at the Academy; his nightmares had affected her last night.

"Are they all right? Is _she_ all right?"

"She insists that she is fine," Faizah said, though the tightness in her voice indicated doubt. "She is more worried about him. He has been having nightmares for the last month."

Mbaruku felt more sympathy. "Understandable. Is he being treated for them?"

"There are no qualified healers available. The few Vulcan healers that remain are trying to heal themselves at the moment." Faizah shook her head sadly. "Spock told Nyota that Vulcans can heal themselves through mental exercises and meditations without a healer's help, but recovery will take longer. Nyota says that he fits in as much meditation time as he can. It's not nearly enough."

"He needs to take extended leave."

"He won't. Everyone is so worried about rebuilding Starfleet before the Klingons, Romulans, or someone else takes advantage. We're down almost half the fleet. Starfleet needs everyone."

"I can't fault his loyalty."

"No, loyalty is not one of his shortcomings," Faizah mused. "We'll give him a few hours alone to meditate. We can keep an eye on him and call Nyota if anything comes up."

"I will read in the living room. I do have a nice view of the garden there…." Mbaruku wanted to find some way to help, even passively.

Faizah nodded her approval. "You are a good and dutiful father, Mbaru," she smiled, "and Nyota loves you for it."

Mbaruku smiled back at her. He lifted his mug and tea and walked to his favorite chair.

He settled in, thankful for the unobstructed view. Spock had chosen a bench in the sun, soaking in the warmth and the light as he sat cross-legged, alone with his thoughts. The young man posed serenely with his hands clasped together loosely in front of him. His eyes were closed, his face devoid of expression, and he remained still. Mbaruku hoped that the heat and the peaceful surroundings would let Spock find respite, even for a short time.

Occasionally throughout the rest of the morning, Mbaruku glanced up from his PADD to monitor Spock's condition. He had intended to finish his novel. His thoughts, though, wandered uneasily. Spock's nightmares last night. Nyota's cries as she shook in Mbaruku's arms the day before. The mental link. The last twisted a knot in Mbaruku's stomach. He respected Spock, liked him even. Nyota loved him, and Spock, Mbaruku had concluded, had committed to her with everything his nature allowed. But this bond… Spock's mental and emotional condition could endanger Nyota. If he broke, she might break, too.

Asking them to break it was out of the question. Their natural compatibility had formed the bond. Spock said it would be difficult to dissolve. _Especially now_ , Mbaruku decided, considering how Spock had drawn strength from Nyota in the garden when they thought they were alone. _Especially now_ , breaking this bond could be more harmful than leaving it in place, even for Nyota.

The younger remained stiller than Faizah's small lion statues that resolutely guarded the patio's four corners. Spock's immobility for the two hours Mbaruku observed him amazed the older man. Beneath the tranquil exterior were the traumas of a lost world and family, of the fight for survival, of uncertainty. He had known Spock for just a couple days. Based on limited knowledge, Mbaruku could not imagine or predict how Spock could or would deal with such matters. In matters of this magnitude, maybe Spock did not know, either.

**-o0o-**

Shortly after high noon, Mbaruku had had enough. His anxious thoughts had infused his body with a restlessness that demanded relief. Unable to remain still, he decided to take a stroll. Spock had not moved and appeared stable, so Mbaruku's vigilance probably was no longer needed. He informed Faizah of his plans, then set off for the quiet streets in his neighborhood.

The physical activity felt good. He supposed that each rhythmic step provided a kind of meditation, the ordered pace reordering his jumbled thoughts. The increased oxygenation of his brain surely helped his cause. After an hour, he returned home, ready for a glass of water. He had not expected to find Faizah and Spock in the kitchen, conversing as if they had been talking for hours.

Each sipped at a mug of orange-spice tea as they discussed the merits of various water collection and storage methods in arid climates. Mbaruku listened with mild interest, as he could not contribute anything to the conversation. As the pair went deeper into technicalities, Mbaruku got up, retrieved containers of Indian food from the stasis unit, and warmed the samosas and dal. He set them in the center of the table along with a dish of cooling raita. After Mbaruku procured dishes, utensils, serving spoons, and a bottle of homemade ginger beer for himself, the three were ready for lunch.

Spock did look better, not as pale as he had appeared this morning. Still, Mbaruku would not consider Spock as being rested. Spock's precise control of body movements remained, but he was moving just the smallest fraction more slowly. He and Faizah continued their conversation—the subject had morphed to general housing design in desert climates. Mbaruku continued to listen as he ate. For the first time, Spock seemed eager to talk. Was the younger consciously redirecting his thoughts? Perhaps.

As Faizah and Spock's newest topic, Faizah's design of the Uhura home, started to wind down, Mbaruku broke in. "Spock, speaking of our home, I have been meaning to ask: How much do you about our family? What has Nyota told you?"

Faizah sat up and back, as if this question had never occurred to her, but now she, too, was interested.

"She provided subjective profiles. I augmented her data with curricula vitae through professional and academic entities." There it was: blunt Vulcan honesty. Spock had checked up on them.

"Oh, you looked at our resumes, did you?" Faizah's voice rose in surprise, innocently. Mbaruku thought it was too innocent for someone who had spent two weeks solid trying to dig up information about the subject sitting at her very own table. "Just what were you looking for?"

"Probably the same things you were looking for when you looked at his resume," Mbaruku threw in just as innocently.

"Mbaru! You were just as nosy."

A human suitor might have taken offense. Spock did not appear offended; he had probably expected this.

"Your professional career as the principal of Ng'ang'a Architectural Design is well-documented, as are your endeavors with Planet Habitat," Spock said to Faizah. "Dr. Uhura's are similarly documented through academic publications and his University of East Africa profile. Most illuminating."

"Spock…I told you that you could call me 'Mbaru,'" Mbaruku teased.

A glimmer of warmth briefly flittered behind the younger's deep brown—and still tired—eyes. "Mbaru…yes, Sir."

Faizah laughed. Mbaruku looked again at Heaven, beseeching any angel who would listen to deliver him from Spock's odd humor. "Ah, so we all did background checks. I am pleased that you are as thorough as we are. But I doubt that you know about the Uhura and Ng'ang'a cousins and aunts and uncles…."

Spock's eyes narrowed somewhat. "No, Sir, I do not."

_Ah_ , Mbaruku thought, the extended family. Nyota had not wanted to scare him away. If Spock were brave enough to face a mad Romulan, Mbaruku believed he could handle a large, boisterous, noisy, and very human East African family—but later. Now was not the time.

"You do not need to be concerned on this visit, but the next time you see us, you should prepare yourself. Once they know about you, they will come, and they will want to meet you, and there is nothing that Faizah, Nyota, or I can do to stop it or even slow down The Family."

Spock's eyes opened slightly wider.

"Rarely is there a day when I don't see my one of my brothers or their wives, my sister, or one of my nieces or nephews, or my own aunts or uncles, and it is the same for Faizah, her sisters, and their husbands and children, and her aunts and uncles. The only reason why we have not seen them today is because we told them we were not going to be available."

"They think that we are out of town," Faizah added.

Both eyebrows rose. "A lie?"

Faizah laughed again. "Oh, no. We never said that we were going anywhere. They simply assumed that if we were not available, then we had to be gone."

"Indeed."

"We are less worried about a reporter recognizing Nyota than we are about a cousin seeing her," Mbaruku said. "If it happens, The Family will hear about it immediately, and we will be besieged whether we want them here or not. I do hope that Nyota is careful. I prefer quieter pursuits this time, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

Spock, from his limited visual cues, exhaled a more exaggerated breath than was typical for him. The poor young man sat back against the chair's backrest, as if he needed its support. He was not ready for The Family yet.

"Let's finish our food, then we can go outside and relax in the lounge chairs," said Mbaruku. "I will tell you more about The Family, things you should know if you intend to remain with us."

"Such information is welcome," Spock said.

Vulcan-style, they finished what little remained of their meal in silence. Faizah gathered a bowl of whole fruit for dessert while Mbaruku grabbed a pitcher of juice and some cups, and the threesome went outside.

At the base of a group of palm trees, two pairs of lounge chairs angled next to each other in a "V" arrangement. Dappled sunlight through the fronds above glittered across the chairs and ground cover beneath them. Faizah set the fruit on a low stone table between the two sets. Mbaruku poured three cups of juice and passed them around. Faizah and Mbaruku settled in immediately, lying back and putting their legs and feet up on the long cushions.

At first, Spock sat on the very edge of his chair. Mbaruku observed the younger's indecision about whether he should copy Mbaruku and Faizah's relaxed postures and lie back as they did. Which would he choose? Commit a breach of Vulcan etiquette if he lay back, or possible offense if he remained seated upright? Mbaruku said nothing, nor did Faizah. Spock would have to make his own decision. After another moment of mental deliberation, Spock lifted his cup of juice and slid back into his own chair, hesitantly putting his legs up.

It pleased Mbaruku to see the formal young man adapt and compromise. Spock shifted quietly into place while Mbaruku nonchalantly launched into describing the Uhura and Ng'ang'a families. He described his Uhura kin, Faizah shared the details about the Ng'ang'a side. Spock paid close attention, which Mbaruku expected. Vulcan society revolved around the family. Matters of a family Spock expected to join surely interested him.

Descriptions of the Uhura and Ng'ang'a family trees soon converged, becoming stories of Nyota and Aisha, Nyota especially.

"That girl could not sit still," Faizah started. "Nothing was ever done until it was done right and done completely! She is still like that."

"She is," Spock confirmed.

"And always with her head bowed over a PADD, reading, studying…. How many supplemental education modules did we go through, Mbaru?"

"Enough for us to worry about our credit balance," Mbaruku laughed. "It's fortunate I work at the university and could borrow them from time to time."

Spock's eyes never left them. His unabashed interest in Nyota's history amused Mbaruku.

"How many times did Nyota drag Aisha into one of her projects?" Faizah laughed. "She and Aisha wrote about two dozen plays and musicals. Nyota wrote the scripts; Aisha wrote the music and created the costumes. Sometimes they drafted every child in the neighborhood into the cast. Our patio became the stage. We had shows once every month or two."

Recognition of a common experience crossed Spock's face. "Nyota continues pursuits in the performance arts."

Mbaruku suddenly turned to Faizah. "You better warn him about the shoes."

"Oh, no, Mbaru!" Faizah exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Spock looked down at his shoes, then back up at Mbaruku and Faizah looking for explanation.

Mbaruku laughed. "It's a family story. We think it's funny. Nyota would be embarrassed if she knew we told it to you."

Spock's eyes widened. "Perhaps it is best that—"

"It is best that you hear it!" Faizah assured. "It is a silly little childhood story that will help you understand our Nyota better."

Spock tilted his head and focused on Faizah. Mbaruku snickered to himself, wondering how Spock would react.

"Our sweet little 7-year-old Nyota, despite her good heart and best intentions, once took a good idea too far," Faizah began. "She liked to read, and we always encouraged it. However, we never expected the fallout that came from reading _The Lucky Red Shoes_. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"In the story, a poor little barefoot girl in ancient China found a pair of red shoes at her doorstep. No one knew where they had come from. Her family never could afford shoes. But they were there, in the little girl's size, and the color red was considered good luck. When the girl wore them, good luck followed her. Her water bucket magically could carry twice the amount of water, though the bucket's size had never changed. Her family harvested twice as much rice in one day as it had in a single day before. Suddenly the fruit trees produced more fruit. Her sister found a husband from a good family—all because the little girl had found and worn the red shoes."

Faizah shook her head. "I do not remember how the story in the book ended, but it wasn't the same ending we had here!" she laughed. "Nyota, in her quest to do good for her own family, decided that we all needed red shoes. She did not have enough credits to buy us new shoes, but she had the next best thing: the bucket of leftover red paint we had stored in the shed. Again, you know that our Nyota is thorough, yes?"

An eyebrow rose. "Indeed."

"Nyota collected every shoe in the house from all the closets, from under our beds, even my gardening shoes from the shed. And, being the thoughtful child she was, she wanted to surprise us. She waited until we had all gone to sleep, snuck in our rooms, and took the shoes we had worn that day. She set them on the patio with all the others she had gathered and started painting them red! She even painted our slippers!"

"An unusual endeavor." Spock's dry comment drew a big laugh from Faizah.

"I was the first one up the next morning," Mbaruku said. "I could not find the shoes I had worn the day before. Where were they? When I looked, I discovered that all my shoes were missing. I woke Faizah and asked her where she had put my shoes."

"Of course, I had not put Mbaru's shoes anywhere. His shoes are his responsibility."

"Ah, and your shoes are yours, which you could not find either!"

The pair laughed. Spock remained in his chair, leaning into the cushion. With his elbows on the chair arms, he clasped his hands together with his index fingers peaked together and tilted his head to one side, listening intently.

Faizah spoke quickly, her excitement propelling her. "We looked through the entire house. What happened to our shoes?"

"I found out when you started screaming bloody murder." Mbaruku leaned away from Faizah to avoid being hit.

"You would have, too, if you had seen all the red on the patio!" she huffed.

Spock's features now radiated some amusement, though the typically aloof Vulcan manner muted it. Now the left eyebrow was slightly higher than the right one.

Faizah's hands flew to the center of her chest. "Oh, my heart stopped when I saw all the red objects on the patio. It was before sunrise, and there was enough light for me to see those horrifying pools of red, but not enough for me to see what the 'bloody' objects were. At first I thought that someone or something had been killed, and all the dripping red things were body parts."

"You should have heard her scream," Mbaruku laughed. "It would have deafened you."

"Don't laugh!" she commanded. "Spock, Mbaru screamed, too."

"Not like you did," Mbaruku laughed. "You woke the neighbors. The Nyaribos called the police, the Samiyus and Wafulas came running. Nyota and Aisha woke up and ran down from their rooms, scared that something was happening to us. Nyota had grabbed my old cricket bat, ready to fight off her mother's attacker."

"The police arrived, and, with their phasers drawn, they opened the door ever-so-carefully to take a look. By this time, the sun had risen, and it was obvious that no animal or human had perished on our patio—only our footwear," Faizah signed.

Mbaruku leaned away again, just in case. "You should have heard her screaming then!"

"Mbaru!"

"Our shoes…," Mbaruku was gasping for breath, laughing so hard, "…oh, they more than dripped with paint—they were hemorrhaging. Nyota had 'painted' them by dunking them. They were saturated, ruined…. If red shoes brought luck, then we were the luckiest family in all Africa. However, we also had become a family without wearable footwear."

"The neighbors thought it was funny, but they were good to us," Faizah chuckled. "They went home and returned with shoes we could wear until we bought new ones. The police laughed, too, but they had to find out who had committed this strange crime against our property, and so began the investigation."

Pleased that this crazy human tale continued to interest their guest, Mbaruku continued. "The 'investigation' did not take long. Nyota crumbled out of embarrassment and started to cry. Her intentions were good, but she had erred at putting a good idea into practice. To our perfectionist Nyota, it was an unthinkable crime against her standards, her family, and all of humanity."

"All of humanity?" Spock asked.

"A bit of exaggeration, Spock, but you know how seriously Nyota takes the things she cares about."

Spock nodded. Yes, he knew, Mbaruku noted.

"As much as I wanted to hug her for her good intentions, she had to be punished for not thinking about the consequences of her actions. I did not need to mete out an extreme punishment; she has always been her own disciplinarian, stricter with herself than I would have been. Faizah and I made her buy each member of this family, herself included, two new pairs of shoes with credits she had earned herself. But she agonized over it for a very long time. Since then, she never starts a project without thinking it through. It's an experience that helped make her an exceptional teaching assistant, yes?"

"Indeed, most enlightening, Sir."

Faizah lifted one hand, index finger extended upward. "Spock, I must warn you. It was at one time a sensitive topic. Aisha teased her mercilessly about it for years afterward, and they came to blows over it whenever Aisha went too far. Although Nyota now sees the humor in it, if I were you and wanted to stay in her good graces, I would never buy her red shoes."

Spock nodded. "Noted."

Faizah smirked. "However, as you surely have come to realize, Nyota likes to tease…."

"Our Nyota? Never!" Mbaruku exclaimed in mock disbelief.

"I have no comment on the matter," Spock said innocently.

"That's what I thought," Mbaruku replied just as innocently.

"I like you, Spock," Faizah said. "If Nyota's teasing ever goes too far, you tell her that you know this story. She will stop, I guarantee it!"

"Faizah…!" Mbaruku feigned astonishment again. "You would have him tell that story on her? Oh, she will not be happy with you!"

"I won't be happy with her if she drives Spock away," she returned.

At Faizah's declaration, a flash of surprise and bewilderment crossed Spock's features before he corrected himself, breathed out, and settled more deeply into the back cushion. He was thinking. Mbaruku sensed no distress, however. In fact, Spock looked like he was on the verge of human-style relaxation—almost.

"Would you like to hear more?" Mbaruku asked, hoping that Spock did.

Faizah smiled. Mbaruku knew that she was aching to tell more tales.

Spock lips thinned as he weighed the options. His eyes again widened, he tilted his head forward, and the warmth that Mbaruku had seen behind Spock's eyes only occasionally returned.

"Yes, Sir."

Faizah sat up and clapped her hands together again. "Well, there was the time when Nyota was 11 years old…"

In the shade of the palm trees for the rest of the dry, hot afternoon, Mbaruku and Faizah laughed and joyfully introduced Spock to Nyota as only they knew her.

 


	11. Beautiful Flowers, Beautiful Mind

Mbaruku lay back, eyes closed, his mind quieted as he listened to the light, airy, ethereal notes of a Vulcan ka'athyra. A final calm, slow cascade of notes faded. Reclined in his favorite living room chair, Mbaruku listened a moment more, reluctant to leave this peaceful state as he opened his eyes.

Leaning against the back of his own chair, Spock embraced the instrument, curling his arms and chest around its body and high neck, making it a part of himself. His eyes remained closed, the non-expression on his face peaceful, though light from the window overlooking the garden sculpted shadows across his strong, angular features and brought out a certain severity.

"Lovely," Faizah sighed from the couch. "Absolutely lovely. And you play so beautifully. Thank you, Spock."

An hour before, as they talked about Nyota and Aisha's musical productions, the topic had turned to music in general, then to Spock's talents on the piano and ka'athyra. When Spock offered to show them the alien instrument, Faizah and Mbaruku eagerly accepted and went to the living room while the younger went to his room to retrieve it. He demonstrated basic techniques and Vulcan musical styles, which Mbaruku found interesting. Once Spock began playing various works, some extremely complex, Mbaruku added "artist" to Spock's long list of skills and occupations.

Spock's eyes opened and he lifted his head slowly from the instrument to acknowledge Faizah. "I am honored."

"We are the ones honored," she replied.

Mbaruku finally lifted his own head. "I second that. You are a gifted musician."

Spock said nothing as he returned his concentration to the ka'athyra and plucked the first few notes of another song, an upbeat familiar tune, a children's song that had been one of Nyota's favorites. It amazed Mbaruku how Spock's long fingers lightly, playfully skipped across the strings. Cheerful and lively, the notes lifted Mbaruku's spirit and he found himself smiling involuntarily. Based solely on the sound, he never would have guessed that the musician was Vulcan.

So much beneath that surface…

As Spock started into the next stanza, a voice rang out from the foyer.

_"Maua mazuri yapendeza_  
 _Maua mazuri yapendeza_  
 _Ukiyatazama yanameremeta…"_

Nyota entered and joined them, still singing away as Faizah and Mbaruku now clapped their hands in time.

_"…Maua mazuri yapendeza_  
 _Ukiyatazama yanameremeta_  
 _Maua mazuri yapendeza…"_

Spock watched Nyota swing from side to side, the material of the caftan she wore following her movements, as she continued with the next verse.

_"Maua mazuri yapendeza_  
 _Ukiyatazama utachekelea_  
 _Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda_  
 _Maua mazuri yapendeza_  
 _Ukiyatazama utachekele_  
 _Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda…"_

Spock finished with a flourish and Nyota spun around once with her own flourish and delight before walking to Spock's side. Faizah and Mbaruku applauded their appreciation.

Mbaruku could not help commenting. "Had I your musical talents as a younger man, I would have won Faizah's heart long before I did."

"Oh, Mbaru!" Faizah laughed but raised her eyebrows.

Spock's eyes met Mbaruku's, and for once Mbaruku saw some joy in them. The younger returned his attention to Nyota as he plucked the introductory bars to another tune.

The artistic layers and depth here…more reasons Nyota had fallen in love with someone who obviously shared her interest and enjoyment of music.

One of Faizah's questions from the day before arose in his thoughts: _"Are we really so different?…"_ In some ways, yes; in other ways, no. What mattered, Mbaruku decided as he watched his daughter and her beloved interact, was how one approached and handled the mix. Between them were a Vulcan instrument and a Tanzanian song, but they made it work. Like Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda, Nyota and Spock had found a balance. It still concerned Mbaruku how the trauma of Vulcan's destruction and the ensuing battles would affect them in the long run. For the moment, they were finding respite in their music.

As the second song ended, Nyota touched Spock's shoulder lightly. "I see that Mama and Baba have been treating you well."

Faizah waved one hand casually. "He has been treating _us_ well with this lovely concert!"

"And we have had the most interesting conversations all afternoon," Mbaruku added, digging at Nyota's curiosity, taking the opportunity of this light moment to tease her.

Spock's head tilted to one side, throwing Nyota a minor expression that Mbaruku was learning to recognize as feigned innocence. "Yes, most illuminating."

Their teasing worked. Nyota crossed her arms and gave Spock her own version of The Death Glare. "Oh? Most illuminating about what?" Nyota turned her head and zeroed in on her mother.

"Goodness, Nyota, what do you think we have been doing?" Faizah protested lightly, smiling as she joined in.

"Well…," Nyota's lips thinned and pressed together in a fake smile, "from the overly innocent tones of your voices—you, too, Spock—I think that you've been telling the embarrassing childhood stories that you tell everyone when I'm not here to stop you."

"I did not realize that Spock knew so much about Earth history," Mbaruku broke in, purposefully ignoring Nyota's assessment. Here he was not lying. The younger's knowledge had impressed him during the preceding hours. "We discussed Vulcan and Terran perspectives of First Contact."

"And he has helped me work through a water management issue I had with on my Garren IV home design," Faizah added.

Nyota frowned. "Uh-huh…what else?"

Faizah could not keep a straight face. She did not even try. "We may have told him about your interests, achievements, and how proud we are of you…things like that."

"And…?"

"Be happy that we did not force him to watch the holovids of your and Aisha's production of _Romeo & Juliet_," Mbaruku added helpfully. Nyota had been horrified at one family gathering when he, Faizah, and their siblings had reminisced about their children. Faizah had shown their tape of the production on the main viewscreen, and the adults had enjoyed watching their children's overly dramatic, but well-intended efforts. With the sophistication of six additional years of age since the production, Nyota and her cousins had cringed as they watched their younger selves play out the romance and death scenes.

Both Spock's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs, and he stared at Nyota inquisitively.

Nyota breathed out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, no, you don't get to see that!"

"It was an ambitious production!" Faizah crowed, going on despite Nyota's consternated eyeroll. "Nyota played Romeo and Aisha played Juliet. Nyota rewrote the play into Kiswahili because their younger cousins did not understand Shakespearean English, of course. Aisha wouldn't participate unless she could sing, so it became a musical!"

Nyota's hands went to her temples. "It was horrible!"

"It was not! It was creative," Faizah assured. "We were proud of you."

"You're my mother; you have to say nice things."

"Spock is…uh…special to you. He has to like it if we show it to him," Mbaruku parried back.

Now the Uhuras had a very confused Vulcan on their hands. "Indeed?"

"Indeed!" chorused Mbaruku and Faizah.

Eyebrows raised, Spock looked for clarification from Nyota, who finally broke out laughing.

Mbaruku simply grinned.

**-o0o-**

The cool, night breeze refreshed Mbaruku and Nyota. They relaxed on the patio, next to each other on a low bench, listening to the quiet buzzing and other activities of nocturnal insects and birds. Faizah remained inside, finishing up various odd household tasks. Spock had returned to his own room for more meditation after supper.

Nyota still wore her mother's caftan, but had taken off the headwrap, letting her long hair fall along her back, contained loosely by a simple wooden clasp. Her features had taken on a strength that Mbaruku had not noted before. Truly, she had become a woman. Even so, would Mbaruku ever be able to let go of his protectiveness completely? Probably not. He mentally gave into his own nature. The father-warrior would always be present.

"He is impressive," Mbaruku said, looking down at his daughter.

Nyota continued to look out at the flickering shadows cast against the palm tree trunks by the decorative torches placed throughout the garden. The warm, yellow flames brought out a glow in his skin and eyes, even more so when she smiled. "He is."

"May I ask a question?"

Nyota turned her attention from the garden to her father. "Always."

How should Mbaruku begin? "Your bond, the link, the telepathy between you and Spock…can you tell me more about it?"

"What do you want to know?"

"How strong is it? You said Vulcans shared many kinds of bonds…"

"Yes." She looked down at her hands. "Ours is not as strong as a marriage bond, but it's more than friendship. Spock says it's the equivalent of a betrothal."

"That would have been my guess," Mbaruku nodded, unsurprised. "How does it affect you?"

"Baba, if you are worried…"

"Nyota…," he stopped her gently. "I only want to understand. How many Terran fathers have daughters in relationships with Vulcan men, hmm? This is new." Mbaruku smiled to reassure her.

Nyota relaxed again and shrugged. "I guess it is." She turned her body to face Mbaruku more directly. "I always feel him, not just in my head, but everywhere. Sometimes I feel his moods, sometimes I feel his dreams. They are impressions, though. I don't pick up anything more direct."

"But I've seen you share thoughts."

"Only when we touch."

That was interesting. It explained much. Mbaruku probed deeper. "If you progress to a marriage bond, you will be able to speak to him through your mind?"

Nyota looked upward, searching her thoughts. "I don't know because I'm human. Spock says that Amanda had a full bond with Sarek, and she could. Spock is a very strong telepath, stronger than Sarek is, so it's likely I will, too."

Again, interesting. Mbaruku wondered if Spock's stronger telepathy had something to do with the inadvertent bonding. Had Spock somehow sensed Nyota's love and responded?

"Does he love you?" The question was abrupt, but Mbaruku could not help it.

"I'm sorry, you know Vulcan privacy does not let me answer that." Mbaruku and Nyota sat in silence for a moment before she went on. "Are you still worried?"

"I will always worry about you."

"Baba…what do you really want to know?"

What Mbaruku really wanted to know, he had asked. If he could not learn more about Spock's feelings—from observation, he now knew that Spock had them even if Vulcan propriety downplayed the fact—perhaps he could discover what he needed by exploring Nyota's.

"Why do you love him?"

Even in the low light, Mbaruku could see Nyota flush. She met his eyes and inquiry head-on, however, reaching, then clasping her two hands around his. "What I said yesterday, the more I learn about him, the more I want to know. He's intelligent, artistic, strong…perhaps the strongest person I have ever known."

Mbaruku noted his daughter's expression soften and warm. Oh, she had it bad…

Nyota breathed in deeply, then exhaled as she centered her thoughts. "Most people have no idea. They think that he's arrogant when, really, he's just being direct. If only they knew how much thought he puts into doing the right thing, making the best decision, trying to serve, living up to everyone else's standards and ideals. Sometimes I want to scream."

Mbaruku nodded. "People gravitate to the familiar where they are comfortable, Nyota, and they judge accordingly. It is human nature, I'm afraid."

"I know," she said. "I wish they could really see the true him. His mind and soul are beautiful, intricate, deep…." She rolled her eyes. "Now _I_ sound like the besotted, smitten, infatuated, lovesick heroine from a bad romance novel."

Mbaruku recognized her humorous string of adjectives from the day before and chuckled.

A glimmer of embarrassment crossed her features, and she shrugged again laughing at herself. "There are no words, not the right ones. Anything I say sounds stupid and trite."

"It does not sound stupid at all." Mbaruku squeezed her hands to reassure her.

She shook her head, looking upward again. "There is a Vulcan phrase: _k'hat'n'dlawa_. Roughly translated, it means 'one who is half of my heart and soul.' That is who he is."

One of Mbaruku's eyebrows rose. Vulcans had a phrase like that? The bottled emotion behind such a phrase suggested much. Again, he had to wonder how Nyota and Spock dealt with the tumultuous emotions beneath Spock's calm surface.

"Half of one's heart, half of one's soul…," Mbaruku began. "It is symbiotic. One depends on the other, each affects the other…are the affects constant?"

Nyota sat up straighter. "I see where you're going with this," she stated simply.

"Only because I worry." He kept his voice gentle. "Your mother worries, too," he added. "Would it help you to know that we are also concerned for him?… Do not look so surprised, Nyota, your mother likes him."

Nyota eyed him. "And…?"

Mbaruku looked skyward. "Very well. I like him, too," he finally admitted.

Nyota laughed. "Baba!"

"So, tell me: Are you going to be all right with this bond?"

"I am now so used to him being with me that breaking the bond would be painful. It's easier to share Spock's emotional turmoil than be without him. It's not all one-sided. We draw from each other." Nyota tightened her grip around Mbaruku's hands. "Baba, we will get through this, I promise."

Somewhere deep down, Mbaruku believed her. "You tell your mother and me what we can do to help you. Do not deny us that. Promise me." He looked at her in the sternness backed by the love of a devoted father-warrior.

"Yes," she said. "I promise."

Mbaruku released his hands and circled them around his daugher's shoulders, drawing her close. She put her arms around his waist and leaned into his shoulder.

"Baba?" she said after a few moments.

"Yes, Baby Girl?"

"Thank you for not going crazy on us," came her muffled voice buried in his shirt. "I know this wasn't easy, and I'm sorry that we had to keep our relationship secret from you. I hated it, and—"

"Sh-sh-sh." Mbaruku simply wanted to enjoy this moment with this accomplished woman becoming his little girl again, even briefly. "Whatever you do, I am proud of you. Carry that with you wherever you go, hmmm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the song Spock and Nyota performed. If you want to hear the song, go to http://www.mamalisa.com/?lang=Swahili&t=es&p=2507
> 
>  **Beautiful Flowers**  
>  A children's song from Tanzania
> 
> **Swahili**  
>  Maua mazuri yapendeza  
> Maua mazuri yapendeza  
> Ukiyatazama yanameremeta  
> Maua mazuri yapendeza  
> Ukiyatazama yanameremeta  
> Maua mazuri yapendeza
> 
> Maua mazuri yapendeza  
> Ukiyatazama utachekelea  
> Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda  
> Maua mazuri yapendeza  
> Ukiyatazama utachekelea  
> Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda
> 
>  **English**  
>  Beautiful flowers look so pretty  
> Beautiful flowers look so pretty  
> When you look at them they shimmer  
> Beautiful flowers look so pretty  
> When you look at them they shimmer  
> Beautiful flowers look so pretty.
> 
> Beautiful flowers look so pretty  
> When you look at them they will make you smile  
> There is no one who doesn't like them  
> Beautiful flowers look so pretty  
> When you look at them they will make you smile  
> There is no one who doesn't like them.


	12. More Bonding

Mbaruku clenched his jaw and mentally sent curses to the flitter that refused to start this morning. He could handle the vehicle's lack of cooperation. What he dreaded was Faizah's lecture, justified by her multiple reminders to bring it in for maintenance.

Why did it have to die now? If only it would power up, just this once, he could drive it to Yosefi Mpopo's Flitter Bay a few blocks away, persuade Yosefi to take care of the problem, and complete Faizah's errands before she woke. That is, if he were lucky. Mbaruku felt his store of luck dwindling by the moment.

Whatever he did, he had better do it soon. Faizah's list this morning included stops at a bakery for fresh bread and the grocer's for produce. Fortunately no one else was up and around yet.

His fingers flew over a different starting sequence, and he tried initiating again. Nothing. Not even a derisorily weak hum of an underpowered panel to mock him. Wonderful. The desperate hope that a new power pack could prod some life from the dead engine welled inside him. He had the spare power pack recharging in his office, but he needed to retrieve it before Faizah emerged from the bedroom.

In the most stealthy manner any history professor could muster, he left the covered flitter alcove on the side of the house, slowly opening the access door to the family's private cloak and storage room. He stepped through and peered into the front foyer. Thankfully, it was clear. He glided through the living room, tip-toeing to the small hallway to his office. The door across the hallway, the one to his and Faizah's bedroom, remained closed. Good. He grabbed the power pack and hurried back out. Before he could make his getaway, he sensed the sight of inquisitive eyes upon him. He looked upward, meeting the eyes that flickered with some amusement.

Spock paused halfway down the stairway. He wore loose cream-colored pants and a loose long tunic that came down to the middle of his thigh. A brown embroidered sash tied around his waist provided the only fit to this casual attire. He looked rested and, Mbaruku thought, clearly curious about Mbaruku's odd manner and movements.

_Aha!_ thought Mbaruku, here could be the solution to his problem. He set his embarrassment about being "caught" aside. "Spock!" he whispered. "Would you come outside with me, please?"

As Mbaruku expected, the eyebrows rose into the younger's bangs, but he said nothing as he approached. Mbaruku placed his index finger over his own lips, requesting silence. Spock nodded and followed him through the small room and out the access door to the flitter alcove.

Once outside, Mbaruku closed the door. "I need your help."

Spock's eyes surveyed the open fitter battery compartment and assortment of tools strewn on the alcove floor. "How so?"

"Faizah has given me a list of things to pick up at the markets, but I can't get the flitter started."

"Our rental flitter is available."

"I can't use it."

Spock's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Again, wonderful. Mbaruku did not want to explain his dilemma to the younger, who would probably think it was illogical. It was illogical, but it was the reality of Mbaruku's life at the moment. Still, he weighed the discomfort he would have telling Spock versus the consequences he would suffer telling Faizah and succumbing to her incessant teasing. He decided to confide in Spock.

"Last week the flitter acted up and was making odd noises. Faizah told me to have it looked at, and I intended to make the appointment, but we were busy."

"Is mobile service unavailable?" Spock asked.

Mbaruku looked skyward in frustration. "I cannot call the mobile service. If I do, Faizah will not let me forget about the many reminders she gave me to arrange for service in the first place."

Spock tilted his chin downward and narrowed his eyes again.

"Spock, if we don't 'progress in this domestic undertaking,'" Mbaruku said, using Sarek's words, "there will be no 'mitigating' Faizah and Nyota."

Spock's eyes narrowed even more. " _We_ , Sir?"

Desperation called for desperate measures. It was time to pull rank. "You know the wrath of an incensed Uhura woman. If you want peace in this house— _and peace with your future father-in-law_ —you will help me in my time of need."

There, nothing wrong with a little blackmail, a bit of bravado from the father-warrior who nonetheless knew he was entirely at Spock's mercy.

Spock straightened, and Mbaruku thought he saw the younger's lip turn up minutely. "Rendering assistance is wise in this instance," he stated.

Was that a smirk on Spock's face? At this point, it no longer mattered. Mbaruku was not delaying anymore. "Good, I am glad that you agree. We need to get out of here before Faizah or Nyota wakes up. See what you can do."

Spock walked to the flitter and hooked his hands under the engine panel to remove it. "Engineering is not my expertise."

Expertise or not, Spock knew more than Mbaruku did, which was better than nothing. "Surely you've had some mechanical training," Mbaruku prodded. "Even Nyota had basic mechanics courses. Just take a look. That is all that I ask."

Spock pulled the front panel, and a slight expression of recognition crossed his features. "Sir, the propulsion regulator conduit is damaged, which is disrupting the initiation sequence. I may be able to provide a temporary bypass. However, its capacity and duration will be limited. It may be enough to power up and pilot this craft for a limited distance."

"But you can't guarantee how far?"

"No, Sir."

"What do I do if it breaks down before I get to the flitter service bay?"

"Another bypass may be possible."

"It's only a few blocks away, and I'm not calling for mobile service if I'm within a few blocks," Mbaruku said, thinking on his feet. "You must come with me."

"Sir? It is not advisable. I would draw attention."

"We will disguise you. I have a keffiyeh in my office."

"A keffiyeh?"

"A Middle Eastern head covering that men wear. It was a gift from a couple of my graduate students. It would go with what you're wearing now. You will look like one of them if no one looks too closely."

Spock folded his arms and tilted his head slightly in question. He did not look convinced.

Mbaruku was not going to let Spock argue. "It's still early, and we will not be out long. You get the flitter started; I'll be right back." He turned and hurried again to his office to retrieve the keffiyeh before Spock could answer.

**-o0o-**

As Spock had warned, a block from the flitter garage, the Uhura Family Flitter descended onto the street when Spock's bypass overloaded and blew.

Mbaruku exhaled. Spock's eyebrows disappeared behind the keffiyeh's fabric. Inexplicably Mbaruku sensed some more amusement. Had Mbaruku not retained some awe of the historical figure and depended on him to coax the flitter another few meters, he might have snapped at him. Instead he took in another calming breath. "Any recommendations?"

"In future instances of flitter malfunction, engage service promptly."

Mbaruku adopted a Faizah-style glare. "Thank you for those wise words, Spock."

Fortunately Spock did not push Mbaruku any further. Instead he grabbed the small tool bag they had brought along and exited the vehicle to assess the situation. He removed the engine panel and inspected the latest damage. Mbaruku got out and stood off to the side, watching Spock work. Spock frowned slightly, and his eyebrows knitted together, concentrating as he removed a burned tube, whose function mystified Mbaruku, from an array of other mysterious tubes. Not a good sign.

Spock calmly attended to removing and repurposing various chips, tubes, wires, and power panels while Mbaruku simply shook his head. At least this was going well. Even if Spock was not an expert, he was faking it well.

"You seem to know what you are doing," Mbaruku commented. "And you say this is not your expertise?"

Spock pulled another panel out, then wiped it clean with a cloth. "No, it is not. However my father has comprehensive experience in flitter and hoverbike construction and repair. I received basic instruction from him."

Mbaruku laughed at the revelation. Sarek of Vulcan had many talents. "I will repeat myself: I truly need to meet your father."

"Yes, Sir." Spock nodded, returning the panel to its slot before reattaching some kind of conduit.

Despite the breakdown, this was going well. Mbaruku relaxed. He was in good hands. It was a pleasant morning. He and Spock would get the flitter to the shop, Yosefi would fix it, and then he…

Mbaruku's eyes caught something approaching from down the street. He blinked to reconfirm it. "Oh, no…"

Spock lifted his head from his work. "Sir?"

"See that skimmer that is coming here?" Mbaruku frowned. "It looks like Angela Wambua's. She's Faizah's best friend. If she asks, don't let her know what's going on, or she'll tell Faizah, and I'll never hear the end of it."

"Does this matter concern Ms. Wambua?"

"No, but she will think it does."

"Understood," Spock replied with one of those innocent tilts of the head as he returned to his work.

Did Spock really "understand"? Mbaruku had no time to find out because it was indeed Angela, who pulled up along the Uhura flitter, smiled knowingly, and punched a button to roll down the window. "Mbaru, what is going on here? Do you need…help?"

"Oh, Good Morning, Angela." Mbaruku adopted his most friendly manner. "Beautiful day, is it not?"

Angela smiled sweetly. "Oh, it is pleasant so far."

Mbaruku realized that Angela was humoring him, and that she had surmised Mbaruku's predicament. Faizah and Angela talked to each other all the time. Faizah must have complained about the flitter issue. But appearances had to be maintained.

Angela tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. "Flitter trouble…?" she lilted casually.

"Oh, nothing serious," Mbaruku smiled back, maintaining his charade. "Just taking a look. Heard a strange rattling. I thought I should investigate."

"Ah," said Angela, tilting her head to the other side, observing (and obviously appreciating) the back side of the younger man actually engaged in examining the craft. "So that is you, yourself, there looking in the propulsion compartment? Or do you suddenly have a twin?"

"One of my graduate students," Mbaruku supplied.

Spock looked up at Mbaruku's pronouncement. Angela's eyes opened wide. Despite the keffiyeh covering his hair and ears, Angela recognized him immediately. And why would she not? As Nyota's "second mother," she was almost as familiar with Nyota's crewmates as Faizah and Mbaruku were.

"Mbaruku Uhura, this is not your twin, nor is he your graduate student," she stated. "What is going on?"

Spock looked at Mbaruku in silent question. Mbaruku nodded, inviting him over. He walked to Mbaruku's side, next to Angela's opened window.

"Very well, but you cannot tell anyone, Angela, not one person, do you hear me? This is Commander Spock, one of Nyota's superior officers. No one is supposed to know he's here."

"I see. How…?"

Mbaruku held up his hand. "The Commander has graciously agreed to be interviewed as part of my 'living history' documentation project at the university. We are trying to leave behind as accurate and comprehensive a record of recent events for future historians. It is important work."

"Yes, yes, I am sure that it is," Angela replied slowly, still incredulous.

"Commander, this is Angela Wambua, Faizah's college roommate and an old family friend."

"Ma'am," Spock said, acknowledging Angela.

"Commander, I am honored to meet you," she said.

Spock acknowledged Angela with a nod, then addressed Mbaruku with his most stereotypical Vulcan body language and vocalizations. "Dr. Uhura, I have located the source of the 'rattle.' However, I require your input before I proceed. If I may…." Spock gestured toward the open compartment.

"Very good, Commander," Mbaruku said, bravely maintaining his ruse. "I will be right there."

Spock bowed slightly to Angela as he turned, then returned his attention to his task.

"You are interviewing _Commander Spock_?" Angela whispered. "And Faizah _knows_?"

Mbaruku nodded, then intoned as if sharing a confidence. "He and Faizah have met. Nyota introduced them before we began this project."

"Now I know why Faizah has been crazy the past two weeks. She refused to tell me why she was so edgy."

_Oh, if only Angela knew_ , Mbaruku thought to himself. "You cannot say anything to anyone, either," Mbaruku warned. "It would compromise his safety and my project."

"Oh?" Angela smiled wickedly. "Like riding around in your broken flitter does not? Do not worry, Mbaru, I won't say anything to anyone who doesn't _already know_ he is here."

Yes, Mbaruku concluded, she would be calling Faizah the first chance she got.

"Angela, please give my regards to William and the children," he said, plastering a smile on his face while closing the conversation. "Have a good day."

To Mbaruku's relief, Angela Wambua for once appeared to know when she was being dismissed. She pulled away, taking another admiring glance at Spock, but smirking. Though Mbaruku trusted Angela to keep a secret from the rest of the world, Faizah would be hearing from Angela within minutes.

As Mbaruku joined Spock near the flitter, one of the younger man's eyebrows rose.

"Living history documentation?"

"I had to tell her something, or else she wouldn't leave until she found out why you were really here," he said. "We're lucky it was Angela and not one of The Family."

The Vulcan frowned slightly, momentarily acknowledging the implications of that scenario, then returned his focus to the flitter. "The power coupling to the propulsion regulator conduit is damaged, as is the propulsion regulator conduit," he said. "I have completed the necessary bypasses."

Mbaruku nodded. "If we can make it another block, that is all we need. Will it get us that far?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mbaruku and Spock climbed back into the skimmer. Spock took the driver's seat and performed several systems checks before committing to power initiation. The flitter resisted at first, but eventually powered up enough for the craft to lope with the unblinding speed of a tortoise until, approximately 15 minutes later, they arrived at the service center.

As if on cue, flitter bay proprietor Yosefi Mpopo met them with the doors to Bay 1 already open. "Dr. Uhura, Miss Faizah called. We have been expecting you!"

Faizah's taunts had begun. Mbaruku sighed, accepting his fate.

Before Spock became an object of attention, Mbaruku got out of the flitter, signed the service PADD authorizing the repairs, and provided a credit chit. The sooner they got out, the better. Spock quietly exited the vehicle and directed his attention toward some landscaping, keeping his face turned away from shop staff until Mbaruku collected him for the walk home.

At least once he returned home to face Faizah, Spock would be at his side to diffuse some of her humor. How much support he would get from the younger (if any) was uncertain, but the idea of Spock's presence was comforting nonetheless.

Interesting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!


	13. Wingman

Birds called, squawked, twittered, and sang from the boulevard trees overhead. The warmth in the sun's rays strengthened as Sol began its daily journey toward the zenith. The trickle of activity from passers-by, flitters, hoverbikes, and skimmers dinned into a generous flow as the streets filled. Mbaruku and Spock, their business completed at the flitter bay, commenced their eight-block walk homeward.

Mbaruku set a pace slower than his usual. Why rush home to Faizah's onslaught? His tall, long-legged companion calmly matched his pace, content to take a slower stroll as well, which Mbaruku appreciated. Besides, a quiet stroll always set Mbaruku's mind at peace, and, perhaps, it would for Spock's as well. Mbaruku enjoyed the relaxed camaraderie of the moment.

"I am a man guilty of a serious domestic infraction," Mbaruku joked. "I now take my final walk to the gallows of humiliation."

Mbaruku expected confusion at the illogic of human expression. Instead, Spock nodded. "Most assuredly. If I understand such matters correctly, would your 'walk' not be preceded by a 'last meal'?"

Mbaruku's own stomach rumbled at the idea. "Hungry?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mbaruku smiled. Neither of them had eaten yet, nor would they anytime soon after the flitter break-down suspended Mbaruku's stops to the grocer and baker. "There's a café & bakery near here, just a couple blocks east of the next intersection. They specialize in French-style pastries and coffee, but there are other things. Would you like to go there?"

"Does the range of pastry choices include chocolate selections?"

"You want chocolate?" Mbaruku never guessed that Spock was a chocoholic.

"No. However, an offer of such may assuage the consequences of this morning's events."

Mbaruku stopped, laughed, and had to lean against a boulevard palm tree. This sort of "logic" and cunning on the younger's part, too, was unexpected. "You intend to bribe Faizah and Nyota with chocolate? I don't believe it!"

Vulcan dignity reared as Spock drew himself up. "I would not characterize it as 'bribery,'" he said, feigning a small degree of offense. "Merely a means of promoting optimum outcomes."

Mbaruku laughed harder at Spock's mock aristocratic air, one imperious eyebrow waaaay up.

"Have you…," Mbaruku clutched his stomach after looking as Spock's expression as another laugh convulsed, "…have you promoted such 'optimum outcomes' by giving Nyota chocolate before?"

"The practice increases favorable outcomes by 63.675 percent," Spock stated, matter-of-factly as if this were common knowledge.

"You've done a statistical analysis?"

"Of course. You have not?" Another flash of humor crossed Spock's features as he tilted his head to the other side.

Spock was teasing him, and Mbaruku felt a connection with the hidden personality, the Vulcan that Nyota knew. Spock The Individual clearly had his own strategies for handling the conflicts inevitable in any relationship. His unabashedly Vulcan approach, armed with statistical data, charmed Mbaruku.

No doubt Nyota found a charm in Spock's approach as well.

Mbaruku wondered if Spock had picked up tactics for dealing with brilliant, assertive human women from watching his own father. Mbaruku could not help looking forward to meeting Ambassador Sarek. Too bad he would never meet Lady Amanda. She must have been an amazing woman.

With these thoughts, he caught his breath, satisfied with Spock's plan. "Come on, then. Let us get every chocolate pastry they have and get home before Faizah thinks of another way to harass me."

The younger's eyes lit up. "At your direction, Sir."

Spock extended his arm, inviting Mbaruku to lead the way.

**-o0o-**

Mbaruku opened the front door. "We have returned," he called out.

"In here," came Faizah's voice from the kitchen.

Mbaruku and Spock exchanged glances _._ Mbaruku hoped that the pastries and fruit from the café that Spock carried would mollify Faizah's fervor. If the carbohydrates soothed her and the chocolate fillings distracted her even to a small degree, Spock would earn Mbaruku's eternal gratitude. Mbaruku himself carried a small urn of the coffee for which the café was famous in the neighborhood. It, too, was one of Faizah's favorites.

 _Let's get this over with_ , Mbaruku thought.

Mbaruku's entrance into the kitchen was met by his wife's imperious glare, one eyebrow raised. Seated next to her, Nyota sipped her mug of tea, trying to hold back her giggling at her mother's impending onslaught. But the second she saw Spock, Nyota laughed out loud.

"Oh, my _amir_!" she joked.

"Nyota?"

" _Amir._ Arabic for 'prince' or 'commander.'"

"Indeed?" Spock set the box of pastries down on the breakfast table and removed his keffiyeh. "Sir, I believe I no longer require this."

Mbaruku laughed and set down the urn of coffee. "Yes, obviously you don't, unless you wish to continue amusing my daughter."

"No, Mbaru, you have done enough amusing for the both of you," Faizah declared. "What were you thinking?"

"The flitter was broken. You have been telling me to get it to the shop. Spock helped me get it there."

"And you worried about _me_ leaving the house yesterday?" Nyota looked at her father incredulously, then turned to Spock. "What if someone had seen you?"

"Your father required my assistance."

Mbaruku noted Spock's deflection, but, as he guessed, his daughter was not letting it get by.

"My father should have called the mobile service. Why did you go?" she pressed.

Spock crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side."Your father was attempting to preserve domestic peace and insisted on a collaborative effort in pursuit of that objective."

At Spock's longwinded explanation, Nyota laughed again. "Baba made you go out?... Baba!"

Though Nyota was laughing, Faizah was not. Mbaruku felt the concentrated heat of her Death Glare. "He has a long way to go before there is peace in this house," she stated. "I can't believe that you brought Spock out there. He was supposed to be staying out of sight."

Mbaruku held up the keffiyeh. "Well, we disguised him."

"Some disguise! Angela recognized him right away," Faizah pointed out. "Speaking of Angela, I had to lie to her!"

"Do not worry about Angela," Mbaruku soothed. "I told her that Spock was here for a confidential project of mine at the university. You can tell her that you know only what I tell you, and then you tell her I have said nothing."

"Yes, she told me about your 'university project.' But do you understand how hard is it not telling her the truth? She is like a sister to me. She is going to be hurt that we did not invite her here to see Nyota, and when she figures out why Nyota and Spock were truly here…she will kill me."

Spock's eyes widened.

Mbaruku saw the question. "Figure of speech, Spock. Angela will be a little upset with Faizah."

"Little? Oh, no, it will not be 'little'!

Finally Mbaruku had had enough. Between the stupid flitter, the stress of preparing for Nyota and Spock's visit over past two weeks, worrying about Nyota, trying to get to know and understand Spock, it all added up.

"Faizah." Mbaruku felt his eyes harden. His voice deepened, filling the room. "Angela will have to get over it."

Faizah's eyebrows rose higher than Spock's ever had.

"A true friend will understand why we need our privacy at this time." Although he had not raised his volume, the vocal and physical control he exerted intensified the impact of his words. "When Nyota and Spock are ready to share their news with the rest of the universe, that is when friends, family, or Angela will hear it!"

Mbaruku paused, meeting each person's eyes, surveying them for understanding before continuing. "In the meantime, Nyota and Spock and you and I deserve this time to ourselves. If Angela or anyone else cannot understand that, do not bother telling me. I do not care."

Faizah frowned for a moment, thought about it, and though she still recovered from the surprise, she nodded approval.

Finally Nyota spoke. "Thank you, Baba."

"Thank you, Sir."

The father-warrior stood straighter, satisfied that he had protected his family's interests. Mbaruku held up the keffiyeh. "Let me put this incredibly clever disguise away. I will be right back."

That broke the tension. Nyota laughed. Even Faizah smiled. Spock continued to stand there, arms folded, observing the interactions.

Another fine morning in the Uhura household.

As he returned the garment to a closet, with a few moments to himself to think, Mbaruku recounted the morning's events. He had to admit they were funny. So much for his grand plan, a failure in covert operations that only confirmed that his career as an academician was the correct one.

But Spock had training in that, did he not? Yet, the renowned Commander Spock had let Mbaruku use his status as Nyota's father to insist that the younger fix his flitter and engage in his crazy scheme. He chuckled, thinking about how Spock had quietly tolerated the whole episode.

Mbaruku had not lied to Nyota. Her beloved was proving himself a good match for her and showing respect to her family. Though he was still getting used to the young Vulcan, Mbaruku genuinely found himself liking him.

**-o0o-**

Spock, Mbaruku noted as he swallowed the last of his coffee and set down his mug, must have absorbed some of Sarek's talent for diplomacy. The pastries, chocolate, fruit, and coffee had improved Faizah's mood fortunately. However, Spock's dry observations of Mbaruku's consternation with the flitter and Angela were only fodder for the stories that Faizah surely would tell about the incident in the future.

"Ms. Wambua's amusement at Dr. Uhura's difficulties was evident," Spock said.

"Angela will find amusement at my expense wherever she can," said Mbaruku. "And, Spock, you _may_ call me 'Mbaru.'"

"Yes, Sir."

Faizah smiled at Spock, then rolled her eyes at her husband. "You and Angela have had a running feud for years. And do not act so innocent. You never let her forget the accident at the Nyaribos' party."

Mbaruku leaned back. He could not help smirking. "You have to admit; it was spectacular."

"What happened?" Nyota asked.

Mbaruku was only too happy to tell. "Your Auntie Angela knocked over the entire buffet table."

"Oh, no! How?"

"Her dancing got out of hand."

"She tripped!" Faizah defended.

Mbaruku laughed at the memory. "Yes, tripping across the dance floor, graceful gazelle that she is…"

"Mbaruku!"

"Baba…." Nyota smirked, but her eyes flashed a warning.

Suddenly the lights flickered.

"Baba?"

All four looked up at the lighting units. Mbaruku breathed out. "The solar collectors. I thought the efficiency readings were off when I looked yesterday. I will have to go up there and look. Maybe there's a loose connection."

Spock continued to study the ceiling. "Do you require assistance?"

"I am not sure. But I would welcome your company, just in case."

"Yes, Sir."

Faizah looked amused, despite another household task. "Spock, do not let Mbaru make you do all his work. This is your leave. You should be relaxing."

Nyota patted her mother's arm. "Trust me, Mama. For Spock, this is relaxing."

The three humans laughed. Spock straightened, but stared at Nyota in light challenge. She straightened and stared back, trying not to laugh.

"Come, then," said Mbaruku. "To the roof."

"Nyota and I will wait for you in the garden," said Faizah.

Mbaruku and Spock walked up the stairs to the second floor. Mbaruku opened a closet, grabbed a energy meter off a shelf, and climbed the ladder along the closet's far wall to the roof access. Spock followed.

Once the pair looked over the array of panels on the nearly flat roof, the source of the energy fluctuations was apparent. "We had a strong storm last week that tore at the palms," Mbaruku noted. "The fronds have finally finished falling. I think a clean-up will solve most of the problems." He grabbed one frond off a panel and tossed it aside.

Spock nodded. "It would be prudent to assess the system nonetheless, would it not?"

"If you would like to do it, I would be grateful," Mbaruku said, handing Spock the meter. "You are more skilled at this kind of job than I am. I'll clean up the mess."

Spock walked to the far end and began checking connections and cell efficiencies. Mbaruku occasionally observed Spock as he, one by one, worked his way down the line of collectors. Vulcans liked order. Spock liked order. Nyota liked order, but Nyota also liked the occasional surprise. He wondered how Spock handled Nyota's mischievous side when it reared. He figured that he would learn that during future visits.

"After you leave tomorrow morning, how long will you and Nyota be gone?" he asked.

"I am unsure," Spock replied. "I have not been informed of the nature of our next mission."

"Hmmm, Starfleet is in flux. I imagine the admiralty is still identifying priorities, reassigning the fleet."

"I cannot comment, Sir."

"Ah. Understood." Mbaruku had accepted that there would be times when Nyota's whereabouts had to be classified. He understood intellectually that it was part of the career she had chosen. Even so, it disquieted him.

"Spock, I have a request."

Spock looked at Mbaruku, waiting.

"Would you make sure that Nyota keeps us informed of your whereabouts, as much as you are able while you are out on mission? Often she does not tell us when she is in hazardous areas because she does not want us to worry. I understand there is nothing that Faizah or I can do if something should happen, but there is a certain comfort in knowing where you are."

"When it is permitted, Sir."

"Thank you. It will make living with Faizah easier." Mbaruku did not mention how much it would ease living with the father-warrior easier, too. "Living with an Uhura woman when she is upset is a challenge."

Spock reconnected a coupling. "I have had experience," he said, keeping his eyes on his task.

Spock's matter-of-fact acknowledgment struck Mbaruku as extraordinarily funny, and he laughed, then laughed some more, loudly. Spock returned his attention to Mbaruku. The eyebrows rose inquisitively, which set Mbaruku laughing even louder.

"What are you doing up there?" came a voice of an Uhura woman from below. "Mbaru!"

Mbaruku tried to calm himself before he and Spock peered over the roof's edge. Faizah and Nyota looked back up at them with twin expressions of confusion. Faizah's hands were on her hips.

Mbaruku and Spock exchanged glances, and Mbaruku broke out laughing again.

Faizah shook her head. "Nyota, I hate to tell you this, but your father has stolen your man. You may not get him back."

Nyota raised eyebrows at Spock. Spock innocently returned the expression. Nyota, as she had been doing for most of the morning, laughed. Spock shrugged and went back to his task.

Mbaruku looked back at Faizah with his own challenge. Having a "wingman" suited him. Unexpectedly, Mbaruku noted, Spock had improved Mbaruku's standing in dealing with certain aspects of household dynamics.

He had to admit, he approved of Nyota's choice.

**-o0o-**

Sitting next to him on the lounge chair, Nyota offered Spock a glass of water. Their eyes met. His face relaxed. He accepted the refreshment. Nyota smiled.

Mbaruku watched the silent communication, which had begun to fascinate him.

Standing next to him, Faizah tugged at his sleeve as she spoke to the younger couple. "We have some things to do in the house. Why don't you sit out here a while longer, take a break. We will see you later."

"Yes, Mama."

Spock nodded in acknowledgment, taking another swallow of water.

Mbaruku nodded back. He and Spock had cleaned the roof, and Spock had reconnected a couple circuits on the verge of failing before they joined Nyota and Faizah for a few minutes of conversation. But now Faizah was insisting that Mbaruku follow her to the house. She gave him one of her looks that allowed no argument. He took the hint and followed his wife inside.

Once through the door, he rose his own eyebrows in question.

"They need some time to themselves," she answered. "Once they get back to the _Enterprise_ , they will be busy. And Spock will not rest if you two keep coming up with things to do. Besides, I think Nyota misses him," she teased.

Mbaruku laughed. "I thought we were going with the 'keep them busy' plan."

"It was beginning to border on the 'slave labor' plan."

"Aren't you always saying we should take advantage of opportunities?"

"And how long would that have gone on? This morning the two of you have been inseparable. A few days ago, I would not have left the two of you alone."

Mbaruku grinned. "Nor I. But we found a way to get along."

"Even though he is Vulcan and in a relationship with your daughter?"

"He is his own person. As long as he treats Nyota well and she is happy…"

Mbaruku and Faizah looked back out toward the garden through the window. Spock had set down his glass. He rose. Nyota beckoned him to follow her. The pair began to stroll out further into the garden, enjoying the day's warmth and rays of sunshine.

Mbaruku noted how the sun's rays brought out blue highlights in Spock's dark hair, a flush of green on his skin, and a warm brown in his eyes when he looked at Nyota. Thoughts, desires, and emotions hidden within his extraordinary mind blazed in fire red brilliance.

Strange that Mbaruku had seen only the black and white of the younger's dark hair and pale skin that first night.

Mbaruku thought it ironic that a Vulcan would inspire whimsical, almost poetic phrases, and he tried to decide how to describe what he was seeing. Sometimes poetry expressed what declarative forms could not, especially with a being as complex as Spock was.

Mbaruku's thoughts were interrupted as he caught another movement from Nyota.

She playfully nudged Spock along. He momentarily resisted her prodding, but the ends of his lips curved up slightly, and the brown of his eyes warmed more at her widening smile. Nyota touched his arm lightly, prodding him again. Spock moved closer to her. She took his arm and they stepped onto the path, contentedly taking a slow pace. Finally they disappeared from view behind a row of bushes as they ambled deeper into the garden.

Faizah sighed, and her eyes watered slightly.

"Faizah? Are you all right?"

The tear perched on her bottom lid broke free. Embarrassed, she quickly wiped it away. "I cannot help it. I am happy for them."

Mbaruku slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it in support and sighed himself. "I never would have believed I'd say this, but I am, too."

_-The End-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your impressions and critiques! Thank you for reading.


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